


skewed by lakes and seas

by lescousinsdangereux



Category: RWBY
Genre: (so much team bonding), Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Post Volume 6 (RWBY), Sharing a Bed, Snowball Fight, Team as Family, The power of friendship, Utter self indulgence on the part of the author, honestly this fic is just a wishlist of scenes I want in Volume 7 don't @ me, plot snuck in when I wasn't looking and rearranged some furniture but I still don't know her, vague hints of future White Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-04 10:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17896478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lescousinsdangereux/pseuds/lescousinsdangereux
Summary: Adam is gone, Atlas is unforgiving, and Yang is patient. Blake is coming to find that reflections are kinder when the surface is intact.(aka everyone loves Blake and wants her to thrive)





	1. night's unfolding arms

_Shadows all around you as you surface from the dark_ _  
_ _Emerging from the gentle grip of night's unfolding arms_

 _Darkness, darkness everywhere, do you feel all alone?_ _  
_ _The subtle grace of gravity, the heavy weight of stone_

_—_

 

It’s not a surprise when the bed dips, given the creak of the door and muted sound of footsteps that had preceded the motion, but when she looks up and identifies the woman sitting next to her, her eyes widen nevertheless.

“I know.” Weiss offers the smallest of smiles, then leans back, hands bracing on the mattress to catch her own weight. “I’m hardly the first choice for this sort of talk.”

Blake opens her mouth, ready to protest, but Weiss silences her with a noise from the back of her throat — a _soft_ nose, one entirely unlike the harsh hushes she remembers from the library at Beacon (more often than not directed at her own teammates, though never at Blake herself).

“Oh, don’t bother. We both know I’m right. Ruby is best at speeches and Yang is…”

Her voice trails off and Blake’s eyes skirt away, finding safety in the dull white of the wall in front of her.

“Well,” Weiss continues. “ _You_ know.”

Even if she’s not entirely sure how Weiss had planned on finishing that sentence, Blake _does_ know. And apparently Weiss knows too. So that’s something.

Still, she remains silent, only noise coming from the drag of her boots along the worn carpet beneath them as she tucks her legs in a bit closer to the plain metal of the bed frame. There’s a clock on the far wall (time still accurate, despite the apparent disuse of the apartment), and Blake almost wishes it would tick, just to fill the room with another sound, to give her something to focus on.

“Ugh, you’re making this _difficult,_ Blake!”

Her head jerks up, eyebrows lifting into her hairline, and finds Weiss looking absolutely horrified, spine straight and hand over her mouth.

“I mean—” 

Blake laughs. Loudly. Fully. She laughs hard enough that she finds herself rocking forward with her mirth, tension rushing out of her in shoulders as she hears Weiss join in.

It’s a little hysterical maybe, and stupid, but that’s alright. 

That’s sort of just how things are right now. 

“I _am_ difficult,” she admits once her breath has returned, twisting slightly to see the laughter (and warmth) still in Weiss’s eyes.

“Yes, well.” She gestures towards herself, and the corners of her lips curl in a way that suddenly feels a little more pointed than before. “Look who you’re talking to.”

“The _Ice Queen_.”

She probably (definitely) deserves the resulting shove, but it’s half-hearted at best, and filled with enough affection that Blake’s chest feels tight with something that feels beautifully familiar (if only recently re-identified). It warps slightly, with Weiss’s next words, but doesn’t vanish at all.

“You would think I would have a bit more control over my domain.” 

Outside, it’s snowing, because it’s _always_ snowing, and Blake, though she’s still wearing Yang’s jacket (too large and almost too _much_ ), feels a shiver pass through her. Weiss’s hand finds her back — blissfully warm compared to the world outside.

“I hate this place,” she says softly, because she knows Weiss will understand.

Weiss sighs, one ankle tucking under the other. “Me too.”

 

—

 

“Next time I see that – that _dickface_ I’m going to turn his head into my _personal_ punching bag! Permanently!”

“Yeah! And that will _hurt_ since his _face_ is a _dick!”_

Ruby is the first thing Blake sees as she exits the small bedroom, mainly because she’s in the middle of the room, punching her fists furiously into the air, and screaming affirmations at the top of her lungs.

It’s pretty hard to miss, even without the bright red cloak. But her eyes flit pretty quickly to the figure just in front of her, which makes sense, give that this figure is literally on fire. And shooting explosive bullets into the home furnishings.

“I say we go to his house…”

Yang fires off two shots.

“Yeah!”

“Break down his door...”

(And another two more.)

“Yeah!”

The piece of furniture formerly known as ‘the couch’ has been very nearly obliterated. The entire middle section is little more than a pile of rubble, broken in half by what looks like several direct punches to the cushions atop it, which had hardly been suited to the task of absorbing even the slightest bit of Yang’s rage (let alone her weaponry). Yang’s continued assault seems fairly excessive, though it’s certainly improved her mood from when Blake saw her last. 

“... Storm into his stupid, fancy entryway, pick up everything in there, and just start _smashing_ it into the ground!”

“Oh! Sounds fun!” 

“And then when he comes down to see what the hell is happening, I grab him by that stupid little, scarf thing and just…”

“It’s called a cravat.”

The sisters twist towards the owner of the voice in tandem — movements in sync, expressions very nearly opposite, but both ease away from their extremes as they spot the two women standing behind them. The red in Yang’s eyes lifts as soon as she spots Blake, and when she does, a small (apologetic) smile touches her lips, alleviating the earlier effect even further.

“And,” Weiss continues with an affected sniff that makes Ruby giggle. “You’re going to have to pay for that.”

“Worth it,” Yang says with a shrug. “It was totally therapeutic. That guy was a di— ”

“Dickface,” Blake finishes, way more softly than anyone should ever say the word. “Yeah, we heard.”

“Sorry we had to stop Yang from beating him up for real.” There’s actually a _pout_ on Ruby’s face, as though she and Weiss had dragged Yang away from a pile of cookies rather than an arrogant (but apparently influential) bigot. It’s incredibly endearing.

“I _really_ didn’t want to,” she adds as she steps closer, eyes flickering between Weiss and Blake.

Yang matches the movement, but her eyes don’t seem to have the same indecision.

“No, it’s good you did.” She blinks once, as slow and careful as words directed at the younger sister (despite the fact that she can’t look away from the older). “I’m used to it. And we need to be careful here.”  

The only thing that drags her gaze away (briefly) is Ruby taking one of her hands in her own.

“Blake.”

It’s all she says and maybe it’s enough, but then Yang drifts closer and takes Blake’s other hand, and Weiss presses carefully at her back, hand finding her shoulder.

“We’ve got you,” Ruby murmurs, then looks just beyond Blake, and the hitch in Weiss’s breathing is tangible. “Both of you.”

Blake licks her lips and feels Yang’s stare, meets it before continuing.

“We’ve all got each other, right? So... no more punching. Furniture _or_ humans.” Yang raises an eyebrow and the corners of Blake’s lips twitch before she adds, “For now.”

“I’ll wait for you to throw the first punch next time. And be right there to throw the second.” Her fingers slide up along Blake’s arm and cup her elbow. “Promise.”

Blake feels her the whole of her swell up with affection for these three women who give her absolutely everything of themselves.

It’s almost too much.

(It’s so, _so_ much.)

But she swallows heavily, squeezes both her hands, and leans back; it’s easy to stay.

 

—

 

Calling the apartment ‘small’ would be generous, but it’s free and clean and warm, so none of them think to complain. After all, there’s plenty of other things to be annoyed about: the unexpected bout of waiting ahead of them, the general state of Atlas, and the various factors that keep both Weiss and Blake on edge. Determining how best to approach sleeping in a two bedroom apartment should be simple, compared with everything else.

Which, of course, means it isn’t simple at all.

“If _someone_ hadn’t used the couch as a stress ball, then one of us could have slept on that.”

Yang just shrugs, unaffected by Weiss’s tone, as usual. “We can squeeze two in a bed. We’ll just draw straws. Shortest one is stuck with Weiss.”

“Hey!”

Weiss’s swat fails to connect as Yang dodges out of the way, grin wide and playful.

“Aw, you know I love you, loser.”

“Wow, Yang. You are _so_ charming. I could swoon right now. Blake, catch me as I swoon.”

“You’re so lucky to know me, Weiss.” Yang lifts her arms as though addressing a packed audience hall from the stage, a spotlight on her figure. “You’re all _so_ lucky.”

“Lucky enough to get a little help in here?” Ruby’s voice calls from one of the bedrooms. She emerges a second later, struggling with the mattress she’s apparently dragged off the bed for reasons Blake cannot fathom quite yet.

Yang swoops in almost immediately – not bothering to ask any questions – but instead of grabbing the mattress, she scoops Ruby up and throws her over her shoulder, and only then lifts the bedding with her other arm, raising it with ease (and a little smirk that’s more appealing than it has any right to be).

“Where am I taking this?”

“Yang!” Ruby’s feet flail furiously as she squirms to escape her sister’s hold, but Yang just laughs and stomps further into the living room, then tosses the bedding into the center of it.

“The great Ruby Rose: vanquisher of Grimm, tiny Atlesian Specialists, and every obstacle in her path! But can she withstand… being tickled?”

“Yang, n _oo_ !” Ruby slips away into a stream of rose petals, but Yang lunges and somehow grabs hold of _something_ , slamming Ruby back down onto the mattress, fingers immediately digging into her sides.

It would be a pretty alarming sight if Blake hadn’t seen it a million times before. As it is, it just makes a smile stretch across her face, and when she turns to Weiss, she sees the expression replicated there.

“They are _such_ idiots,” Weiss says, with all the fondness a phrase could possibly possess.

Ruby lets out a particularly loud squeal and begs for mercy, and Blake thinks about how it’s possible to feel perfectly content in one exact moment in time.

“Yeah.” Her smile, too full to grow any further, softens instead. “ _Our_ idiots, though.”

 

—

 

They pull the other mattress out of the bedroom once Ruby regains the breath to tell them her plan: a _proper_ sleepover, complete with pushed together bedding, junk food, and ‘girl-talk’ (Ruby uses air quotes and then finds herself unable to define the term any further).

It’s an accident, but once they each shower and pile into the makeshift bed, they end up in official Team RWBY order, and Yang laughs hard enough that the rest of them join in, like always. (It’s a laugh that’s hard to resist, especially now, when it sounds so much like relief.)

If there’s one dark spot to the situation, it’s (ironically) the brightest one; Ruby sets the lamp on the floor just above her head and it pulses with a steady light, illuminating each of their faces in a way that seems to reveal more than anything natural would (or should). By the time the night has worn on long enough that’s completely dark outside, it becomes impossible to ignore.

“What would you ask her, if you could?”

The question surprises Blake, perhaps even more so because she finds herself to be the one asking it.

(The words come completely unbidden, escape before she can recognize them.)

“Well,” Ruby starts, sounding unsure. “I already asked my question, so– ”

“Boo!” A chip arcs over both Blake and Weiss and lands directly on Ruby’s face; Blake has to admire Yang’s aim, if nothing else. “That’s cheating.”

“Ow! Fine! I would…” She trails off. Blake shifts her head to the side, but can only see the back of Weiss’s shoulder, who has turned the whole of her body to face Ruby. “... I would ask about my mom.”

She feels Yang’s sigh in the shift of her shoulder, the soft brush of it against her own.

“Yang’s told me stuff. And so has Dad. But there’s so much that I — I just don’t know. Her favorite things to eat or what she thought when she had me or how she and Dad fell in love or… even what _really_ happened to her.”

She falls silent. Blake watches Weiss shift, reach out into the lull — hears Ruby’s subsequent soft hum.

“I saw her when I was doing the eye _thingy_ . Maria told me to me to think about the people who love me and I just… _remembered_ her.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “And I thought of all of you too.”

“She would have been so proud of you.” Yang swallows heavily and it’s Blake’s turn to reach, though she doesn’t have to go far. (Yang’s hand finds hers like they’ve practiced a thousand times.) “I don’t need Jinn to tell me that.”

“Yeah.” Ruby’s tone speaks of things Blake doesn’t ever want to face. “Yeah, I know.”

The lamp’s light dims slightly, and Blake, in a fanciful moment,  imagines it’s holding its breath (waiting, waiting, waiting for the next question she might be asked, or maybe something beyond even that).  

“I would ask… how to fix this. All of it. Like, where do we even _start_ after we secure the Relic?” There’s no whine in Weiss’s voice, but the undercurrent of frustration is a bit too relatable.

Weiss shifts onto her back, though her hand remains in place, visible now, trapped between both of Ruby’s.

“I know that we can make a difference,” she continues. “But this isn’t — this isn’t going to be fixed by killing a few Grimm. And since we can't stop Salem for good, it seems a bit... “ She takes a deep breath. “Difficult.”

“Just a little,” Yang snarks, but not unkindly. “Let’s just go deal with the immortal lady with magic, who a being of pure knowledge doesn’t know how to kill. No big deal.”

“Does that sound better or worse than uniting all of Remnant under a banner of _unequivocal_  harmony so that when the _literal_ gods come back they don’t destroy the whole of the planet and everything on it?”

Blake thinks Weiss’s question is probably rhetorical, but Ruby answers anyways, her voice soft.

“Maybe we can’t do everything ourselves. And maybe it’s hard to know where to start. But we can do _something_. And we have to start somewhere. We can’t kill Salem, but we can make it harder for her to win. We _can_ bring people together against her. I mean… we’ve got a Schnee and a Faunus being best friends _right_ here! So maybe we _have_ already started.”

“One Faunus and Schnee at a time?” Blake laughs softly. “That’s going to take a long time. And we might run out of Schnees. Especially when we get rid of at least two of them for what they’ve done to Weiss.”

Yang snorts softly in something like agreement.

“I know. But isn’t it worth it to try?”

The mattress shifts as Yang releases her hand and turns, propping herself up on her elbow. (Blake feels the loss until Yang slips her left hand in the place her right had so recently vacated. It’s warmer than the metal, but equally pleasant.)

“Yeah, Ruby. I think it is. And we will.”

“Together,” Ruby says (promises).

Blake’s sure she’s not the only one who responds, but their voices blend together just as well.

“Together.”

 

—

 

After a year of sharing a room with the three of them, Blake knows the sounds her team makes when they’re asleep well enough to now realize that she’s not the only one awake, despite the hour.  

“You never answered,” she whispers. “What would you ask Jinn?”

Yang is quiet for a long time — long enough for Blake to wonder if maybe her time away had changed more than she’d realized (even the smallest ones) — and when she finally answers it’s a sweet sigh of words.

“I guess… nothing.”  

She turns on her side, hoping the sight of Yang’s face will bring further clarification. It doesn’t — Yang’s stare up at the ceiling is surprisingly blank — but the sight of her makes Blake feel better anyways, like always.

“Nothing?”

“Mmm.” Yang blinks once, shifts her her shoulders as she considers. “I mean, I think Weiss's question was good. I think there are a lot of practical questions that are important. But for personal stuff? I know I could ask a lot of things. Like… I could ask about STRQ and what really happened between all them. I could ask what I could have done better in helping with Ruby or in a particular fight or at a specific moment. I could ask why Mom really left – what she was really thinking when she did. But I think… maybe there are some things people shouldn’t know, or some answers that’ll never be good enough. I dunno. Maybe that’s dumb, but sometimes I think there are some answers I don’t want. Not any more.”

Blake nods slowly, afraid to voice the things she doesn’t yet know how to say.  

“Besides, the really good stuff? That’s either _here_ , ready for us to figure out ourselves, or... in front of us. Bad stuff too, obviously. And sometimes I want to know how it’ll all work out, but Jinn can’t tell us about that anyways. That’s what makes it interesting, you know? Knowing that everything is waiting for you, sometime, but not knowing exactly how you’ll get there. That’s the adventure of it, I think; it’s in everything that’s up ahead.”

And Yang might have a point, because when she shifts onto her side, she’s close enough that their noses nearly brush. So close that when Yang smiles, Blake swears she can feel it.

She thinks of everything  she might know — all the answers she might get — and none of it quite matches up to what’s waiting for her in the curl of Yang’s lips.

Her heart jumps with everything that’s waiting, with the things she wants to figure out on her own.

 

—

 

Morning comes too quickly and — more pressing to her current situation — too loudly. The heavy thuds that awaken her feel as though their originating from the inside of her skull, as impossible as she knows this to be.

“Can someone please _stop_?” she grumbles, but makes no move to deal with it herself.

She’s _hot_ — not just warm or comfortable or not-freezing — and it’s bliss. She hasn’t felt temperatures like this since she left Menagerie (not even close), and she buries herself in it like its home.

After a few moments, the banging finally stops, and Blake lets out a soft sigh of contentment, fingers curling tighter around the soft fabric in her grip.

Of course, someone’s scroll goes off shortly after.

“Shit.”

The warmth at her back abates and she groans softly in complaint, curling further forward as cool air rushes in. Apparently, she’s not the only one to protest; mumbled, unintelligible words reach her ears, which twitch and flatten against her head in an attempt to block the sounds out as much as possible.

“Hello?”

“ _Weiss. Open the door.”_

More movement and shuffling sound, accompanied by quiet profanities and then, finally, the creak of the front door.

“Winter! I’m so sorry! We haven’t been able to get much sleep these past few days and—”

Weiss is silenced so effectively that Blake’s eyes flutter open without conscious thought, just to make sure the woman hasn’t been attacked. She’s assuaged immediately, the sight that greets her (once she blows a bit of blonde hair out of her face) only resulting in a sleepy smile and her eyes slipping shut once more.  

(Winter’s arms are wrapped around Weiss; it’s fierce, or maybe desperate. She hugs her like it’s the first time she’s ever given it everything, and maybe it is. Maybe that’d explain the soft sniff that can only come from Weiss, buried in her sister’s embrace.)

“Father is furious with you,” Winter says, voice tight with the furthest thing away from anger. “He knows you’re in Atlas.”

“I know. I mean, I knew he would as soon as we arrived.”

“I came back as soon as I could. I am… sorry you could not reach me when you arrived. I was investigating a matter outside of the city limits.”

“It’s alright. Thank you for making sure we were released. And finding everyone a place to stay.”

There’s a long pause.

“With the military withdrawn, we do not have much available. But it seems you have made these accommodations your own.”

“Yes, well.” Weiss clears her throat, then continues, more softly than before. “It feels… safer when they’re close. Which is silly, I know. But they’re my… ”

 _Family_ , Blake thinks, because it’s true, even if Weiss can’t finish the thought now.

“I understand.” This is a tone that Winter Schnee does not use often — it’s careful and quiet and kind and, most startling of all, hesitant. “Will you… tell me about it? Everything that’s happened?”

Blake falls back asleep to Weiss’s voice, doing exactly that.

 

—

 

When she wakes again, it’s quiet.

The lack of sound is as startling as the noise from earlier; something is missing and Blake can’t pinpoint exactly what it is until the surface beneath her head begins to lower slowly, air rushing out. Yang’s breaths have turned controlled and careful; her heart rate has slowed. Blake shifts slightly, mumbles something that’s meant to be a greeting (though the words never quite form), and Yang’s breathing picks up once more as her fingers slide up along Blake’s back and tangle gently in her hair.

“Hi.”

(She fits worlds into a word.)

“Hi,” Blake rasps.

It’s no wonder that she’d been more than warm during the night — she’s pressed against Yang, wrapped around her, heat vibrating between them like it’s trapped. Their bare legs are tangled and she’s gripping Yang’s too-big shirt — one of the four that the Atlesian military had donated upon viewing their meager belongings.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Yang whispers.

It should feel _too much_ or _too close,_ but somehow it’s neither (somehow it’s _not enough_ ). 

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

When Yang smiles, it lights up her entire face, sparks along the lilac of her eyes (passes through Yang’s fingers and finds its way under Blake’s skin). Yang looks at her with that smile and it’s like she sees something in Blake that no one else ever has (sees her more clearly than anyone else). It would be consuming if it weren’t so soft. And _oh_ , Blake craves something this soft, even if she hasn’t quite yet figured out how to reach out and take what’s offered.

Yang knows, though, and waits. Her smiles stays just the same as she presses their foreheads together, feather-light, and holds Blake’s gaze. Blake sucks in a breath, and it must be audible (and uneven), because Yang’s smile softens further as she lifts up onto her elbow and brushes her lips against Blake’s brow.

Her heart stutters.

 _How_ , she wonders, _will it handle anything more?_

_How can it possibly take another second of this?_

“So Winter stopped by, huh?”

The moment is broken just in time —  just fast enough to make sure she remains intact.

(Yang knows. Of course she knows.)

“Um… yes.”

Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to her that Weiss and Ruby were still _there_ , but when she sits up and turns, it’s clear they’ve been watching the whole time — fully dressed and sitting up against the opposite wall. Weiss’s eyes are wide and her words are nothing more than an exhale; Ruby is clutching Weiss’s arm with both of her hands and her eyes are bright.

Yang, not oblivious but impervious, sits up lazily, running a hand through her hair and stretching her arms out wide. (Blake’s jealous of the ease of it all, feels the burn of a flush on her own face.)

“Cool. What’d she say?”

“She — oh, well, I told her… everything.”

Weiss pauses, as though expecting someone to protest, but Yang just nods.

“Probably a good call.”  

“And Ironwood will be back tomorrow. So she said we should wait patiently and, um… go shopping?”

That one gets Yang, who finally looks something other than completely, solidly, one-hundred percent put together, even if it is just surprised.

“What? _Really_?”

“She gave me her card?” It comes out as a question, and Weiss’s uncertainty, coupled with everything _else_ makes a laugh bubble up in Blake’s throat, spilling into her next words.

“Good. I _really_ need a new coat.”

Ruby gasps. “Can I help pick it out? _Ooh_ , can I help _everyone_ pick their clothes out?”

“Please. Blake is going to want _my_ help, Ruby. Our fashion sense and color schemes are _far_ more aligned.”

“But! Maybe she wants to try something new!” Ruby’s grin shifts into something wide and mischievous as she looks at Blake, who is suddenly reminded just who Ruby’s sister is and all they have in common. “It seems like Blake’s about ready for something _new_.”

“Don’t be _ridiculous_ , Ruby. That has _nothing_ to do with anything and you know it.”

Behind her, Yang laughs, then leans forward to place her chin on Blake’s shoulder. Weiss and Ruby’s bickering quickly fades into the background, like everything else.

“Sorry. You know she’s not good at being subtle.”

“No,” Blake agrees with a smile. “She’s really not.”

“But don’t worry about her. There’s no rush. In your _shopping_.”

Blake licks her lips and stares straight ahead, though there’s no hiding her blush from Yang, who can surely feel it against her own cheek.

“I don’t know. I think I’d like to get on with it.” She pauses. “It’s really cold here.”

The next laugh brushes against her skin. “I can help with that. In the meantime.”

Yang’s confusing the metaphor, but it makes Blake laugh anyways (and maybe that was the point all along).

“Oh, you and your abnormal body temperature will keep me warm? Even while I’m still figuring out… my new coat?”

“No rush,” Yang says again, voice dipping low but staying steady. “You’ve got me. However you want.”

Blake leans back and wonders how she got to be the sort of person who considers herself lucky.

 

—

 

(“ _Seriously_ though,” Weiss says later. “You’re going to have _me_ help pick out your new coat, right?”)

 

—

 

“Oh. My. God.”

Weiss stands with her hands on her hips looking smug.

“Welcome,” she begins dramatically. “To Atlesian Outfitters.”

“It’s… _color-coded_ ,” Ruby squeaks, then disappears entirely. A trail of petals leads towards the second floor, where a wide swath of red can be seen, even from the entrance.

“I _knew_ she’d do that,” Weiss says, smirk still in place. “Blake, come find me when you want to talk _fashion_. I’ll be in the white aisle.”

“I _knew_ she’d say that,” Yang murmurs with a grin, crossing her arms and leaning a bit into the woman at her side.

“You’ve got to give her some credit. This place is pretty incredible.”

If anything, that’s an understatement.

In truth, Blake’s never seen anything like it, not in terms of size or volume or coordination, and she’s guessing Yang and Ruby can likely say the same. The floor is _full_ with row after row of beautiful and — she reaches out to grip the nearest coat: a thick, brown, leather duster that would look great on Yang — quality fabrics. Everything in the store probably costs a fortune, but Weiss had assured them that her sister would be unfazed as long as they each stuck with a single, utilitarian outfit, her explanation having something to do with reimbursement and clever line itemization. Honestly, Blake hadn’t been paying too much attention at the point right before they’d left the apartment; Yang had offered up her jacket once more and had been in the process of carefully buckling the collar, fingers brushing against the side of Blake’s neck and… Well. Weiss’s eye roll had been pretty knowing.

“Purple and black are upstairs,” Yang says, grin teasing. “But I dunno. You think you’ll be able to find something in this dinky selection?”

“It’ll be tough, but I’ll press on.”

“You’re _so_ brave, Blake.”

Blake shoves her, and Yang laughs as she’s forced to take a stumbling step towards the rack of brown to keep from falling over.

“Guess I’ll start here, then.” She winks. “Come back down and model once you have a few choices, alright?”

She tsks, turning towards the stairs to hide her blush. “Sure. I have to run them by _Weiss_ , after all.”

Yang’s laugh continues as she heads upstairs, which means Blake still has a fond smile in place when Ruby staggers by, nearly buried under the variety of black and red attire lumped in her arms. She pokes her head around the fabric to give Blake a large grin.

“This place is the _best_.”

 

—

 

Ruby briefly changes her mind about an hour later when final decisions are being made and Weiss steps out in _pants_.

“ _No,_ Weiss! What about battle skirt buddies?” She gestures towards her own attire: a darker red leather and thicker leggings than they’ve seen on her before, but still very much including a skirt.

“Don’t worry, sis. Look, she still has your scarf!”

This visibly brightens Ruby’s features, a smile blooming, and she runs over to Weiss to tug on the scarf that looks only slightly out of place with the rest of the blue, white, and — Blake blinks — a cool violet, patterned into the sleeves. She scans the new attire further, making sure, and spots a bit of gold buckling on Weiss’s boots.

“It looks like Weiss is borrowing a little bit from all of us,” Blake comments softly, her chest tightening, just a little, at the thought.

Weiss crosses her arms. “Oh, _you’re_ one to talk, Blake, with that gold piping!” She pauses, then adds, almost grudgingly, “It looks fabulous.”

“Yay, Team RWBY!” Ruby jumps in celebration, nearly punching Weiss in the face with an extended fist. “We’ve bonded so hard that we’re even _color_ compatible now.”

“More importantly, _someone’s_ warm again.” Yang tugs on Blake’s hood — lined with soft, white fur — and pulls it up over her head. “Blake’s ready for a tundra expedition, now. I’m picturing sleds and like, spears? I feel like there’ll be spears involved somehow.”

Blake shoves her off, though it’s extremely half-hearted. “Are we _hunting_ in this situation?”

“Yeah!” Yang pumps her fist. “Struggling to survive in a bleak landscape. We’re _stranded_ with no weapons and no hope of extraction. We have only our _wits_ and the makeshift weaponry we’ve cobbled together from the most basic materials. It’s man versus nature, in a brutal showcase of— ”

“ _Please_ stop sounding excited about this. We’ve had enough ‘no hope’ situations to last us a lifetime.” Weiss looks less annoyed than she sounds, gesturing with her sister’s card towards the register with a rueful half-smile. “I vote we aim for an uneventful few days where Blake doesn’t have to use her parka for anything but walking to restaurants where we can be _served_ food that we don’t have to stab first.”

Yang just shrugs; her new coat — similar to the one Blake had pictured her in earlier on —  fits beautifully, tight enough against her shoulders and arms to show off the muscles there.

“Yeah, okay.”

Weiss stops, turns, and blinks back at Yang. “Really?”

“Yeah. Dinner sounds nice.” She grins. “I can wait a few days before starting our epic arctic adventure.”

“We’re _not_ actually doing that.” Weiss pauses, reaches into the large container of neatly folded scarves and pulls out an orange one. She tosses it at Yang, who catches it with a raised brow in place. “Just in case you do something stupid anyways. _That_ will go perfectly with your coat. And somehow not clash with your hair.”

“Aw, you do care,” Yang says, placing a hand on her heart. “Under that frosty exterior there beats a— ”

“Say one more thing and I _will_ destroy you.”

“I’d—”

Blake slaps a hand over Yangs mouth before she can get another word in — or, tries to, but Ruby gets there first, and Blake’s hand lands on top of hers rather than Yang’s lips. (And _fine_ , yes, she’s slightly disappointed.)

“That’s what I thought,” Weiss sniffs, swiveling on her heel. “Now come _on_. I’ll need all your clothing tags to pay.”

“You got it,” Yang calls, muffled by the hands still in place, but not for long.

“Ew! Yang!” Ruby jumps away, shaking out her hand.

Yang laughs and pokes her in the side before running over to catch up with Weiss at the register, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

“She licked me,” Ruby whines, nose wrinkled in disgust.

Blake places a hand on Ruby’s shoulder in sympathy, but can’t help the upturn of the corner of her lips. “Honestly? You should have expected that.”

Ruby’s sigh sounds tired. It’s also entirely disingenuous, given the small smile that creeps across her face. “Yeah… I probably should’ve.”

 

—

 

The walk back is _much_ more pleasant.

The reasons for that are probably two-fold: her new coat _is_ remarkably warm (it turns out the snow is _pretty_ when it’s not biting), but the hood also covers her ears. It’s hard not to read into the fact that people are suddenly willing to meet her eye, but at least it means the four of them are, for the most part, ignored. Even if it leaves Blake somewhat lost in unpleasant thoughts.

She’s not sure how, but Yang picks up on it and interlaces their fingers with a casual nudge of Blake’s hand. The leather of her glove feels soft, despite being new, and even the thickness of it can’t prevent her warmth from seeping through.

“So, I was thinking.”

“Uh oh.”

Yang nudges her lightly; it seems to bring them closer together than anything else, shoulders flush against each other.

“Hush. I was thinking that before we go on our expedition to the tundra and then save the world from like, injustice—”

“Uh huh. Right.”

“—Before we do that, we should go somewhere.”

Blake arches an eyebrow. “Go somewhere?”

“Yeah, like, just the two of us.”

She says it casually, and even swings their hands a little, but when Blake glances over, there’s a light pink spreading across Yang’s cheeks. It makes everything easier (better) in a way she couldn’t have anticipated.

This is something Yang _means_. Something she’s working at. Something she’s carefully building.

“What would you like to do?”

“I dunno.” Yang’s eyes dart over quick, like she hadn’t expected the response. “Just… go somewhere we can talk. I know you told all of us about being home, but everything was so crazy that I feel like I missed some stuff. And I dunno.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t want to miss any of that stuff. Your stuff.”

This is something that Yang cares enough about to take one planned step at a time. It’s only fair that Blake take a few unplanned ones of her own.

“I’d like that.” Her fingers curl as she presses closer and brushes her lips against Yang’s still-flushed cheek. “And you can tell me about your ‘stuff’ too.”

 _How wonderful_ , Blake thinks, _to want to run towards something for once._

“Blake,” Yang whispers. “I —”

It’s a sign of just how distracted they are that when the snowball hits Yang, it does so without any interference. It lands directly on her forehead and begins to slide downward into her eyes before _instantly_ vaporizing, steam floating up above Yang’s now-flaming head.

“That feels like it was probably a mistake,” Blake observes, almost idly, even from the fighting stance she’d leap into at the first hit.

To Jaune’s credit, he only looks _moderately_ terrified, and recovers pretty well, after an audible clearing of his throat.

“Yang Xiao Long! With this snowball I declare my allegiance for Ruby Rose, whose honor you have sullied by…” He falters, then cranes his neck backwards. “What was it again?”

“She _licked_ me!”

Ruby comes into view now, a snowball in one hand while the other points dramatically at her sister. Blake’s lips twitch and she settles back into a more relaxed posture. Naturally, Yang takes the opposite approach, cocking her gauntlet with one fluid motion.

“Um. Okay.” Jaune clears his throat again, projecting once more. “Whose honor you have sullied by — by licking! Stand down if you wish to make it out of this battle intact, because behind me I bring the full weight of Team Junior and we will — ”

“I thought we settled on RNJR?” Ren steps out from behind a tree along the side of the path, also carrying snowballs, but looking more confused than anything else. “To stick to conventional naming schemes.”

“Ren! You’re spoiling the ambush, man!” Jaune slaps a hand to his face. “Besides, in _this_ case, I meant J-N-O-R.” 

“I still don’t understand what color you’re referencing. There was some discussion about ORNJ, I believe?”

“Wait, who’s the ‘O’? Am I kicked out from JNRR? Is this — ” Ruby gasps. “Is this a _double-cross_?”

“Everyone, _please_!” Weiss stomps forward, coming to rest between Jaune and Yang. “I do _not_ understand what is happening right now, but this is _Atlas_. You — you rapscallions cannot have some kind of _snow battle_ in the middle of the city. It’s completely inappropriate!”

Really, Weiss doesn’t have the same excuse for being distracted, so when a snowball hits _her_ in the face, Blake (privately) thinks she might deserve it, just a little. (Very, very privately.)

“Oscar! I didn’t give the _signal_!”

“Oh. Uh. Sorry?” A mop of dark hair lifts above a nearby bush, followed by two wide eyes. “Hi, guys.”

“This… is a _declaration of war_!”

It’s not entirely clear to Blake what teams are in place at this point, but she’s pretty sure she doesn’t want to be allied with anyone who’s against Weiss right then. Even Yang takes a single step back. As it is, Jaune’s pretty wise to dive out of the way as glyphs start to form.

“Glyphs and weapons are cheating!” he squeaks from behind a snow bank. “Nora! Operation Icicle Melt!”

No one had realized Nora was capable of remaining silent for such a long period of time, which is why her attack now — flinging herself out of the top of a large pine tree — is so effective. She hits Weiss _hard_ and the two go tumbling off the path, glyphs vanishing and Myrtenaster arcing in the air.

“Jaune! You were supposed to attack _Yang!”_

“Oh, yeah. You were right though. This _is_ a double cross! Ren, _fire!”_

“ _Betrayal_!”

“You know,” Yang begins, blinking at the chaos. “I was ready to fight back, but now I’m just confused. Who are we supposed to be hitting?”

“I lost the thread a while ago.”

Yang’s lips purse, considering this. Somewhere nearby, Weiss screams in victory. “We did just get new clothes. We _could_ sit this one out.”

“You’re dry now, right? So, it’s almost as though that snowball was never thrown.” Blake tilts her head. “I didn’t realize your semblance could cause sublimation.”

Yang’s lips curl in a familiar smile, and Blake realizes her mistake.

“Yeah, I guess you could say it was pretty—”

“Yang…”

“—Hot,” she finishes, like she always does.

Blake sighs, glances behind Yang, and nods. “Yang. Please believe me when I say that you _totally_ deserve this.”

“Deserve wh—”

Ruby’s snowball hits Yang hard enough to send her tumbling forward, face first into the snow. The throw has a _bit_ more power than Blake had expected, honestly, but there’s no denying her own complicity at this point. Might as well make the most of it. She reaches down, scoops up a handful of snow, and promptly drops it onto the back of Yang’s head.

“That,” she says simply.

Yang’s head lifts slowly and her eyes find Blake’s right away. “You have _two_ seconds to run, Belladonna.”

Blake doesn’t waste either, leaving only a shadow in place.

 

—

 

“I have snow in so many places I shouldn’t.”

JNOR’s (or ORNJ’s — the name is apparently still up for debate) place is much like their own: small, but clean and warm. They also still have an intact couch, which Weiss doesn’t _exactly_ comment on when she sits down, but she sends Yang a look that’s just as effective. Or, would be, if Yang took it to heart; instead, she winks and drops down on the floor, leaning against the foot of said couch, which makes Weiss huff (but also smile).

“If you had stuck to the _plan_ you would have been fine,” Ruby says. More than half her body is thrown over the arm of the couch, and Blake’s convinced she’d slip off if not for the way she’s hooked an ankle under Weiss’s knee.

“You sent me _two_ messages.” Jaune, spread out on his back, holds up his scroll directly in the air. “‘ _U nEd to mu & venge m’ _and then a snowflake next to a flexing arm. Without Ren we’d never have figured it out.”

“Ren? Really?” Blake asks, glancing over at the man in question in surprise. Out of the group, he’s one of the few managing to sit like a moderately functioning human being, cross-legged with a straight back (this might say as much about his own scroll habits as anything).

“Mine are _always_ a mess,” Nora explains, lounging across the top of the couch, forearm resting on top of Oscar’s head. “ _I_ can’t even read them.”

“So I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Yang nods in understanding. “Makes sense. I can read Nora’s because of growing up with Ruby.” She offers Ren an air high-five, which he returns with gravitas.

“Point _is_ there were no previously agreed upon alliances. So you’re not allowed to be mean to me. Especially not when I still have snow in my pants. Right?”

There’s a moment’s pause.

“Nah,” at least five voices sound in agreement.

Jaune sighs.

“At least you guys got some cool clothes out of it! Not the snowball fight, duh, but the trip as a _whole_. When you went shopping. Because you are looking _snazzy_ !” Nora reaches down to pluck at the shoulder of Weiss’s coat, then throws her head back dramatically. “Ren, _we_ should get new clothes too.”

“Well, see, _we_ needed them because Team RWBY is heading north to spear Boarbatusks, or some shit.”

Weiss swats at the top of Yang’s head. Ruby swings around to hit her shoulder. Blake elbows her in the gut.

Yang just grins and leans back further into the foot of the couch, hands folding behind her head.

“Wait, really?”

“No!” Just three voices this time, but they’re a little more insistent.

“Right, because _instead_ we’re gonna bring the Faunus and humans together and like, totally end discrimination. Oh, and make all the nations all become best buddies too.”

This time, Jaune pauses, but then still asks, “Wait. Really?”

“Kinda?” Ruby offers weakly. “We’re still working out the details.”

“It’s about as much as a plan as her scroll message,” Blake adds. “So that… checks out?”

“Okay, but that fell apart _horribly_ , so let’s maybe _not_ use that as our example.”

“Speak for your _self_ , Ice Queen. I totally clobbered you!” Nora laughs and plucks at her shoulder again. “That was all anyone told me to do and it was perfect!”

“It’s a start, isn’t it?” Oscar asks softly, and the rest of the room quiets. “Or, an eventual goal, at least. The lamp told us we can’t stop Salem, but that doesn’t mean we have to stop trying to make things better.”

Jaune props himself on his elbows and smiles in a way that leaves little doubt who he’s thinking about.

“Pyrrha used to say that destiny was like a final goal. Something you have to work towards for your whole life.” He takes a breath. “Maybe doing this is ours. All of ours.”

“Killing Grimm and bringing peace.” Nora fist pumps. “Hell yeah.”

Blake takes Yang’s hand, feels the weight of Weiss’s calf at her shoulder and Ruby’s shin behind her neck.

“All of us working side by side, trying to bring people together,” she murmurs. “It wouldn’t be such a bad destiny.”

Yang’s fingers slide in between hers, interlocking them. “I’ve heard of worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title and lyrics at the start of each chapter are from 'You Are the Moon' by The Hush Sound. I've been watching RWBY for a while without getting too involved in fandom, but after this last Volume, I heard this song on shuffle, thought about Blake, cried, made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/hmdesi/playlist/04VlXlLZM2NgooSolftthz?si=--qK73bhRamaU730Qy9ekg), and started writing. My plan was to write a couple scenes to get a feel for their voices, but I failed miserably and wrote 25K. RIP. I'm on tumblr as [thecousinsdangereux](http://thecousinsdangereux.tumblr.com/) \- send me recs or whatever so I can fall further into this pit.
> 
> Thanks to [Plastic-Pipes](https://plastic-pipes.tumblr.com/) for letting me use her RWBY winter outfits as inspiration. I thinkk that drawing is only on her [patreon](https://www.patreon.com/plastic_pipes), so you should check her out there.


	2. all the light that you possess

  _You don't see what you possess, a beauty calm and clear  
_ _It floods the sky and blurs the darkness like a chandelier_

_All the light that you possess is skewed by lakes and seas  
The shattered surface, so imperfect, is all that you believe _

 

_—_

Weiss insists that they can get into her restaurant of choice, despite their less-than-formal attire, and she’s right — a few dropped names (and a flip of Weiss’s hair) and they’re being shown a small table in the back that’s probably meant to shield the rest of the patrons. None of them can find it in themselves to care, especially when the menus and later, food is brought out. Blake’s pretty sure she sees tears form in Yang’s eyes when she takes in the ridiculous sized steak in front of her, not that she has much room to talk — she orders a salmon so thick that she stares at it in wonder for a good minute before digging in.

There’s probably about two lines of conversation shared amongst the four while they eat; Weiss could have managed more, but her companions stuff themselves in a way that she’s most definitely called ‘undignified’ in the past. Blake catches her staring a Ruby as she shovels bread and noodles into mouth at the same time with a look that’s half horrified. (The other half is all fondness, so she figures they can all get away with it tonight.)

“Damn,” Yang groans, throwing her head back and placing a hand over her stomach. “New clothes and food like that... Weiss, next time we see your sister, I’m going to kiss her on the mouth.”

“Please don’t.”

“Ugh, definitely don’t,” Ruby groans. “I already feel sick.”

“I told you not to eat so much bread, you dolt.” Weiss flicks her ear, but Ruby barely moves, only letting out a soft whine.  

“But it was so good! And they give you as much as you want!”

Yang lifts her head just enough to give Blake a look that’s definitely teasing. “You gonna object too?”

“No.” She smiles, crossing one leg over the other. “Winter would kick your ass if you tried and _that_ would be hilarious.”

“Rude,” Yang tsks.

“Speaking of—” She ignores Yang’s waggling eyebrows. “Our meeting with her and Ironwood is pretty early tomorrow, so we should start to make our way back.”

“Do you think Ruby will make it back?” Blake asks.

Ruby lifts her hand and gives a weak thumbs up.

“That’s a no. Oh well, guess she’s going over my shoulder.”  
  
“ _Yang_!”

“I will literally kill you if you start that nonsense here,” Weiss says.

Yang lifts her hands, palms out, then rocks forward to stand. “Fine, fine. You’re the boss. Or like, the assistant boss who’s in charge now because Ruby tragically perished from eating too much, or whatever.”

Ruby should probably be worried at how Weiss lights up at that.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but you should _not_ look excited right now. What kind of partner _are_ you?”

“I’m a great partner, you jerk!”

Yang sniggers, offering a hand to Blake, which she takes as she stands. It feels casual and perfect, even if Yang throws a pointed look at Weiss afterwards.

“That doesn’t even count,” she huffs, but lifts Ruby up out of her chair anyways, touch softer than her tone.

“Feels like it counts to me,” Yang murmurs and Blake steps in just a bit closer, agreeing with the gentle tilt of her lips.  

“Wait! Weiss, wait!”

Weiss pauses, twisting to look at Ruby as she lifts her head and stares upwards with wide eyes.

“Can you put the rest of the bread in your bag?”

“ _Un_ believable _._ ” She drops her arm from around Ruby’s waist and stalks away. _“_ I’m leaving you.”

“No _o_!” Ruby skips after her, seemingly recovered; Blake and Yang follow after at a more sedate pace. “I’m sorry! But also I wasn’t kidding, so could we maybe go back and take a couple rolls?”

“No,” Weiss says.

“Aw.”

“But… there’s a bakery not too far from here that _happens_ to be on the way home. Perhaps we can stop inside for dessert.”

Ruby gasps, throwing her arms around Weiss in a tight hug. “I love you.”

“Aw, look, the Ice Queen is melting.” Yang reaches around Ruby to poke Weiss’s cheek. “I didn’t know you could get this red.”

“Be nice,” Blake whispers, with a nudge that’s far more gentle that the slap Weiss aims at Yang’s finger.

“Let’s just _go_ before they close.”

The temperature’s dropped with the loss of the sun, and Blake is quick to pull up her hood as they leave the building. Their walk is brisk, though, now that Ruby’s been promised something sweet, and since Yang stays close at her side; she doesn’t really feel the chill much at all. She hadn’t noticed it yesterday, but Atlas remains bright even at night; lamps line the street and light pours from all the surrounding buildings. When she looks up, she can see only the outlined form of the air ships, none of the stars beyond them.

Yang follows her gaze and nods. “Makes me miss home. Just a little.”

“It’s not usually _this_ bad,” Weiss says. “But it’s always been hard to see the stars.”

“We’ll take you to Patch some day,” Ruby promises and Blake watches her arm curl around Weiss’s shoulder. “You can see them all there.”

“Or in Menagerie. We have some lamps, but nothing like this. And my parents really want to spend time with… all of you.”

The admission makes her blush (or maybe it’s the way her eyes automatically dart to Yang) and she wishes it were a little darker again, this time for an entirely different reason.

“I would… really like that,” Weiss mumbles. “All of it.”

Yang grins, shoulders jerking up in her excitement. “Then we’re doing it! Dad’ll make fun of you for your table manners— ”

“You mean because I _have_ them?”

“—But he’ll love you. Just like we do.”

“Well, I don’t know about— ”

“Weiss.”

The new voice is unfamiliar and cold and male; Blake immediately wishes Gambol Shroud were at her back (rather than shoved away in their apartment, pieces wrapped in the remnants of her old coat). Apparently, she’s not the only one with a bad feeling — Ruby pulls out Crescent Rose (albeit in its compact form) and Yang’s gauntlet spreads across her forearm. But Weiss’s reaction is the worst of all: she freezes on the spot.

The man steps into view.

It’s pretty clear who he is, given the white hair (and the — to Blake — infamous face). Blake finds herself stepping in front of Weiss with little thought, weapon or no. Yang and Ruby do the same; Crescent Rose is completely unfolded now, tip hitting the ground with a loud thunk, and both Yang’s arms are raised and primed.

“Bad move, my guy,” Yang growls.

(Blake doesn’t have to look over to know her eyes are glinting red.)

“Weiss! What is the meaning of this? Cease this absurdity at _once_.”

A hand presses against her back gently and Weiss steps alongside her, nodding once. Blake relaxes slightly, hands dropping to her side, and does as Weiss (silently) asks, stepping aside to put the same sort of calming hand on Yang’s shoulder.

 

“It’s fine,” Weiss murmurs, for their ears alone, though they can all hear the slight waver of her voice. “Ruby, please.”

The scythe retracts and returns to Ruby’s back. Yang takes another second, but sucks in a deep breath and slides her front foot back in a more neutral stance. She’s clearly biting back more than a few words and, glancing over at Ruby, Blake is somewhat surprised to see the same level of anger in her eyes.

Weiss doesn’t relax, but she does nod her thanks.

“What can I do for you, Father?”

Jacques Schnee is an asshole; beyond everything Blake’s heard, it’s in the arrogant tilt of his chin and the cut of his suit and the way that he looks at his daughter with cold, possessive eyes that feel familiar in a way Blake hadn’t expected. Every impulse screaming at her right now tells her to grab Weiss and _run_. But Weiss stays, back straight, so Blake will do the same.

“What can you do for—” He laughs, or lets out some soulless version of it. “Weiss. I am, of course, here to return you to my home. Where you belong.”

“Fucking _asshole_ ,” Yang fumes under her breath, but holds still (coiled in on herself, ready to unload).

“It seems there’s been some miscommunication. I have no intention of returning to the Estate. Or going anywhere with you.”

“Excuse me?” Jacques takes one step forward; Weiss nearly jerks one foot back, but slides it forward again, mid-air.

“I seem to recall you disowning me. And freezing all of my accounts. When I left, I assumed my message was quite clear. I want as little to do with you as you do with me.”

Her voice shakes a little at the end; without consultation, the three women close in on their teammate, no longer in front, but close and ready to be deployed. Blake takes Weiss’s hand with a firm grip, realizing only then that Ruby has done the same on the other side.

Weiss’s father notices too, and sneers.

“ _Foolish_ girl. Have you learned nothing? Are you truly such a disappointment? These people are _sullying_ you — and in turn _me_ — through mere association.”

His fingers curl into fists.

(Blake is unsurprised, but somehow still gutted; it’s difficult to keep her grip on Weiss soft, but she manages, squeezing once — gently — instead.)

“You were being _punished_ ,” he continues. “And rightfully so! But if you had kept your place and proved your worth, you may have regained your status as a Schnee. A proper Schnee. But this silly rebellion has _certainly_ set you back. It will take a long time indeed before you regain my esteem. But I will give you some menial tasks to complete within the company and, over time, we may be able to move past this.” He sighs, shaking his head. “It is time to end this foolishness, Weiss. Get in the car at once and we will discuss things further at home.”

(She doesn’t recognize the sharp intake of breath as her own until after it’s been released.)

“No.”

“Now, listen here— ”

“No,” Weiss says again, this time taking the smallest step forward. “I have — I have no interest in listening to you or hearing what you have to say or being your — your possession any longer. I’m doing things that _matter_. Don’t you even realize that the world is falling apart? You’ll sit there on your Dust and the Schnee name will fall into ruin, dragged down by someone who doesn’t know anything about the legacy behind it.”

“Young lady, you are on— ”

“No.” One last time, colder now.

(A smile spreads across Blake’s face; it’s fiercely proud of everything the woman next to her has become.)

“You’re on the wrong side of this, Father. You’ll probably never realize that, but _I_ do. Thanks to the people who actually care about me. And I’m going to spend however long it takes making sure that _everyone_ knows exactly what you are: a man clinging onto a birthright that isn’t even his. Eventually, people will realize exactly what it means to deal with a Schnee. A _real_ one. Because _I’ll_ show them.”

Jacques opens his mouth again, but not a single sound makes it out.

“You’re leaving.”

Ruby takes one step forward and then another. Her weapon remains at her back, but there’s something that ripples around her — something that makes the night seem brighter than it once was — that leaves no doubt that she doesn’t need it. This is a Ruby that they’ve only seen in the face of Grimm and monsters and the most hopeless of odds. And why not, when Jacques Schnee clearly belongs in one of those categories himself?

Whatever Jacques sees when he looks at Ruby, it scares him, and the slight widening of his eyes fills Blake with a satisfaction that she imagines would be felt tenfold by Weiss, if not for the fact that her gaze does not stray once from their leader, even when her father finally ( _finally_ ) turns to go.

But it’s not until he’s in his car and speeding away that anyone dares break the silence. And when someone does, naturally, it’s Yang.

“Holy _shit_ , Weiss. Are you — shit — are you okay?”

Weiss nods slowly, seemingly stuck until Ruby turns back around, retraces her steps, and throws her arms around her partner. They can all hear Weiss’s (long, shaky) exhale, even with her face buried into Ruby’s neck, and it spurs the remaining two of the team into action, joining the hug without any further thought, huddling Weiss in the center of people who so clearly care about her.

“Weiss Schnee,” Yang whispers, hand clutching the back of Weiss’s head, fingers digging softly into her hair, “you’re officially my hero.”  

 

—

 

(That night, they keep the mattresses as is, but barely use one. None of them has any intention of letting Weiss go.)

 

—

 

Winter picks them up early. ( _Way_ too early, as the loud groans at the sound of her knock confirm.) When she arrives, she looks as put together as ever, but Blake catches the circles under her eyes and the way she hugs Weiss with a little more tenderness than Weiss herself seems to be expecting. It feels intrusive to listen in on the whispered conversation between the two; Blake flattens her ears against her skull and busies herself with tying Yang’s scarf in place with a looping knot that doesn’t catch her hair as much. (As far as distractions go, Yang’s soft smile is about as effective as they come.)

The five trudge through the city, stopping by the JNOR apartment to collect the remaining four members of their (extended) team, though Winter is quick to warn them that Ironwood may not be interested in meeting with everyone in such a large group (‘especially’, she adds with a sharp look at Oscar, ‘when some of us are carrying more than one set of opinions’, so apparently Weiss had told her all about _that_ too). They get more than a few second glances as Winter leads them through a number of security checkpoint that, frankly, seems overkill, but once they make it to the General’s compound, he merely blinks before letting them all in with a tired sigh.

“Looks like they brought the whole gang.”

If anything, Qrow sounds amused as he steps into view, and he accepts Ruby’s tackling hug with something approaching affection. Of course, he still glares ever so slightly at Winter, who mostly ignores him as she walks over to stand at Ironwood’s side.

“Yes, well, as you have informed me, they are _all_ privy to information that used to be slightly more… exclusive,” Ironwood says slowly.  

Qrow throws up his hands. “Don’t look at me.” He pauses. “Eh, okay, you can half look at me. But most of this stuff we figured out ‘cause, well, _you_ know. Ruby, show him the thing.”

Ruby hesitates for half a second, but then pulls the lamp out from under her cloak, lifting it high before releasing it and letting it float eerily before her. Ironwood steps forward at the sight, eyes locked on the Relic, but Ruby steps back and the lamp follows her.

Tension fills up the room as the rest of them watch the telling movements.    

“I see.” Ironwood nods, as though he understands. “And the Spring Maiden?”

“We don’t know,” Yang says flatly. “Dead or gone.”

“We don’t know what’s going on with Fall either,” Qrow grumbles. “She’s probably dead, but I can’t imagine whoever was on Cinder’s mind at the end is much better than her.”

Ironwood presses his fingers to his forehead. “Winter is still secure. She will be able to put the lamp in her chamber.”

“And the Winter Maiden is…?” Weiss prompts.

“Classified.”

Behind her, Jaune lets out a huff of annoyance; Weiss and Ruby exchange a pointed glance.

“I think we’re a little past classified, James,” Qrow drawls.

“And I don’t believe we _are_ . In case you hadn’t noticed, we are under _attack_. Beacon and then Haven? Atlas is next, and I owe it to the people of this nation to use every tool I possess, including, or perhaps most especially, secrecy.”

“And the lamp?” Ruby asks softly. She lifts her hand and the Relic returns to her grasp. “How will you use that?”

Ironwood’s hands cross behind his back. “However I need to.”

“I’m sure you can understand, General Ironwood, why that doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence. Atlas isn’t the only nation affected by Salem, not by a long shot,” Blake cuts in calmly, watching as Ruby clips the Relic back to her belt and covers it with her cloak once more.

“Not to mention, things here are, _frankly_ , worse than we realized. You have the whole air fleet ready to attack anything that isn’t Atlesian, but what about the problems already _here_ ? Haven was betrayed from the inside out; do you _really_ think there aren’t people here who would do the same?”

“Weiss.” Winter’s tone isn’t harsh, but it does offer warning, even if Weiss discards it with a shake of her head.

“What do you think Father would do with something like this?” she murmurs. “Do you really think he would think twice before joining up with someone like Salem if he knew what he could gain?”

“Miss Schnee, your father and I have our disagreements, but he cares about the safety of Atlas, I assure you. Your sister has worked tirelessly to bridge the gap between SDC and the Atlesian military, and she has been extremely effective.”

Weiss shakes her head, ready to debate, but it’s her sister that speaks instead.

“With all due respect, General,” Winter brings slowly, brow pinched, “our father would start a civil war if he thought he could gain this sort of power from it. This new information — the existence of these Relics and Maidens and Salem — it changes many things, in my mind. I believe we would be wise to consider what Weiss is saying.”  

Blake’s opinion of Winter Schnee goes up a notch at that, especially when she notices Weiss’s relieved smile.

“You think we’re just kids and that’s okay. But you know at least some of what we’ve sacrificed to get here.” Yang holds up her right arm briefly, then lets it drop. “You’re thinking about Atlas, but that’s not enough. If Salem gets all these Relics, it’ll literally be the end of the world.”

“Which is why _putting_ those Relics in the most secure location in all of Remnant makes _sense_. What did you come all this way for, if not to do precisely that?”

“We thought maybe there’d be a little more cooperation,” Blake says. “ And a little less of an entire air fleet ready to dig in and leave the rest of the world to the Grimm.”

“It’s a tactical regrouping and I don’t see why—” Ironwood cuts himself off, jaw going tight. “Qrow, please. Might I have a _little_ assistance?”

“It’s not like we thought, James. The stuff that… _thing_ showed us about Salem,” Qrow shakes his head. “We’re here for a reason, you’re right. And ‘regrouping’ sounds good. But I dunno if shoving the Relics inside a vault and hoping that we can hold out is the best play any more.”

Ironwood sighs, dropping his arms to his side. “Miss Rose, you realize I could force you to give me the relic?”

It’s said innocently enough, perhaps, but the response certainly isn’t. No weapons are drawn, but suddenly everyone has their hands on theirs (even Blake, with the woefully inadequate knife at her belt).

“You could,” says a soft voice from the back of the room, “but I wouldn’t.”  

Oscar steps forward, palm resting on his cane in a way that’s absentminded rather than threatening, and all eyes are immediately on him, most of which are filled with some degree of suspicion.

“Oz?” Qrow questions.

“No.” Oscar shakes his head. “I still haven’t really heard from him. Not since we all saw… what Jinn showed us. But I’ve spent enough time with him in my head to know that he wouldn’t want that. We’re supposed to be working together, aren’t we?”

“Ozpin knew the value of keeping a secret more than anyone,” Ironwood frowns.

“It doesn’t seem to have really worked very well,” Oscar says, almost apologetically.

Ironwood seems to deflate, at least partially; he leans back, bracing against the edge of his desk.

“I need to consider these new factors. But in the meantime… please make Atlas your home. I apologize for any distress my words may have caused, but I assure you, no harm will come to you here.”

“Thank you, General Ironwood,” Ruby says. “We will.”

She sounds as though she believes him and Blake feels the tension in the room slip away with the collective exhale of her teammates.

It’s a shaky start, but not a disastrous one.

 

—

 

The tension in Blake’s shoulders doesn’t fade until they’re outside the walls of the compound, once the military presence has thinned (but not disappeared completely). Yang, close as always, notices, and rubs softly at the center of her back with just the right amount of pressure. It takes an embarrassing amount amount of effort to keep from purring at the sensation.

“Well, that was…” Nora trails off.

“Intense,” Jaune finishes with a loud breath. “Jeeze.”

“And _awesome_ !” Nora exclaims. “Ruby, you just told the head of the Atlas Military to _fuck off_ ! When the lamp straight up _floated_ into your _hands_ ? I didn’t even know you could _do that!_ You’re, like, a total badass!”

“It _was_ pretty incredible,” Weiss admits.

Ruby flushes, arms swinging awkwardly before she reaches back for the hood of her cloak and flattens it down. “It was just — er — we were all awesome! I mean… Weiss! She totally told that dude what was _up_ , right?”

“You are such a goober,” Yang laughs. “Why are you so bad at taking a compliment?”

“Maybe because _you_ accept compliments well enough for the both of you,” Blake teases.

“Are you calling me arrogant, Belladonna?”

“Confident, I think.” Her lips twitch into a small smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s a good look.”

“Gross. This is worse than being complimented,” Ruby groans dramatically, but she’s grinning wide, and looks about ready to wrap them both in a hug.

“Hold on,” Nora begins excitedly. “Are you two—”

Jaune and Ren both elbow her, and she clamps her mouth shut.

“ _Anyways_ ,” Yang cuts in, grinning at Blake’s blush. “Ruby and Weiss are both badasses. We all are. And we should like, do something to celebrate that!”

“Hear, hear!” Ren nods.

“Like what?” Jaune asks.

“I dunno. But the last year has kind of sucked, you guys. We haven’t had a party since…”

Yang trails off. Ruby groans again.

“Oh no. Yang _gg_! I know that look. That look is never good.”

“I have an absolutely brilliant idea and every single one of you is going to love it,” Yang says, completely ignoring her. “Alright, Jaune, Weiss, you’re with me. Blake, you and Ren are on food duty; we’re all going to need a lot of food for all of us ready by like… seven. Ruby and Nora, you’re on budget — basically, go bug Uncle Qrow until he gives us some lien for the food. And Oscar, you’re on Ruby and Nora duty; do _not_ let them spend all that money on sweets. Everyone got it?”

“Not really.”

“No.”

“Wait, what are we doing?

“Ab-so-lutely!”

Yang points at Nora, then offers a high five. “ _That’s_ the spirit. See you guys in a few hours! Weiss, Jaune, let’s _go_!”

Blake watches them go with an amused smile, unable (and unwilling) to stop its spread.

”I’m sorry. I’m still a little confused,” Oscar says. “What’s happening?”

 

—

 

As is the case with so many of Yang’s hastily concocted plans, everything somehow works out perfectly.

Qrow gives them more money than they’re expecting after Ruby goes all doe-eyed, Ren and Blake come up with a stew that’s sure to be filling, and Oscar is surprisingly effective at keeping Ruby and Nora on task (though, not without sacrifice; Nora pinches his cheeks a _lot_ ).

Yang strolls in a few hours later as promised, looking smug and gorgeous, and Blake nearly drops her ladle, watching her cross the room towards the (extremely small) kitchen. Ren’s look is knowing enough that she has to mumble a soft ‘shut up’ under her breath.

(It’s something about Yang like this, she wants to explain, something about her pushing her worries aside — briefly— to find joy and share it unabashedly with those she loves. Yang is stunning in battle, basically a piece of art, untouchable and lovely, but when she’s like _this_ , Blake can stare and allow her heart to swell.)

“Guys,” she says, word drawn out in a drawl that curls Yang’s lips and the pit of Blake’s stomach. “We’re going dancing.”

 

—

 

“So, is this always your solution to burnout?” Blake whispers. The volume of the music playing makes it necessary to press close, or at least, makes it easy to do so without drawing attention; the distinction doesn’t matter much to her, right then.

Yang’s arm curls around her waist. “Maybe. You object?”

“Well,” Blake begins, feeling bold. “That depends. Will you save me more than one dance this time?”

“Blake.” (Yang says her name like it’s the sound she makes on every exhale.) “I’ll save you anything you want.”

Her heartbeat stumbles over itself, thudding twice and then skipping. For a moment, everything burns a bit too bright. Yang sees it and smiles. She squeezes Blake’s hip and steps away, if only just

“But how about drinks first?”

She’s torn between stepping closer and walking outside to breathe, but somewhere in the middle sounds like enough, just for now.

“Sounds perfect.”

The club Yang had found is, naturally, perfect: dark and loud and full of the sort of people that made life interesting. (On the way here, Yang had admitted, voice low in Blake’s ear, that Weiss had been a great help in their search; every club Weiss had knowledge of, they’d immediately discounted.) Best of all, it’s clearly Faunus friendly; Blake’s ears drew little attention, which was helpful, given that she had most certainly left her coat at the door. (Because the club is hot, too, just in the way Blake likes.)

Another benefit that Blake finds unsurprising: the bartender serves them without question. Truthfully, his service comes a bit too quickly for Blake’s taste; there are many patrons waiting for drinks, but one look at Yang and he ignores the lot. Not that Blake can blame him, exactly. Yang’s hair is loose and wild, her arms bare, and her shirt creeping up past her hips. But then she turns and hands Blake her drink without a second glance at the man behind the bar, and something in Blake settles back down again.

Yang presses the lip of her glass to Blake’s. The sound gets lost in everything else, but the sensation vibrates along Blake’s fingertips. A shiver passes down her spine shortly after, but she suspects that has more to do with the way Yang watches her as she raises the drink to her mouth.

“What? Should I wait? Are we toasting something?”

“Mmm… yeah, I think we are.” Her hand finds the small of Blake’s back as they slip through the crowd, back towards the dance floor.

“Are you going to tell me what that is?”

“Mmm… no.”

She swats at Yang’s shoulder; Yang allows it to connect rather than risk a swerve into another patron, moving closer if anything else.

“I just figured you knew.”

Yang smiles and, _yeah_ , yeah she knows.

“To… us, then.”

Apparently, Yang hadn’t expected her to actually say it, and the surprise shows on her face. Before Blake can panic, the surprise shifts back into a soft smile that has the exact opposite effect. Warmth spreads from the pit of her stomach and  into her chest and Blake’s pretty sure she’s grinning back like an idiot, but she doesn’t care in the slightest.

“To us,” Yang agrees, then, smile turning lopsided, nods towards the dance floor. “And those losers.”

She’d been so wrapped in Yang that she hadn’t noticed, but they’re easy to spot once she looks. There’s never been a group more out of touch with the club vibe, she’s pretty sure, but it seems to be working for them nevertheless, given the fact that a few other have joined Ruby and Nora in some kind of frantic headbanging/flailing combination and a circle has formed around Jaune and Weiss as they waltz around, like a couple out of time.

“It looks like you’re two for two on this sort of thing.”

“By ‘this sort of thing’ do you mean putting together a totally kick ass evening that specifically involves dancing? Because that would mean you admitting that you _loved_ me interfering and basically dragging you to that dance at Beacon.”

Blake snorts softly, then takes a sip of her drink to give herself time to hide her smile.

“Yang,” she begins without expression. “I had an incredible time at the dance you helped plan at Beacon two years ago. It was the highlight of my young life. I would not be the person I am today without that incredibly formative experience.”

“Yeah, okay. That felt sincere in literally every possible way, so…” Yang smirks, wrapping an arm around Blake’s shoulders. “You’re _so_ welcome, Blake.”

The blush spreads quickly; she has a feeling the dark doesn’t stop Yang from noticing. But maybe that’s not a terrible thing, letting Yang notice a little bit more.

She licks her lips and looks up Yang, throat tight with the things she wants to say. “Yang. Really. Thank you. For that and… everything else.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” She shakes her head, though not with enough force to dislodge her gaze from Blake’s. “Not even a little.”

“I thought… it was a good step away from apologizing?” she asks, a slightly self-mocking smile in place.

Yang laughs, leans her head against Blake’s, foreheads touching together briefly.

“Alright, fine. But we’re aiming for like, you saying I should be thanking _you_ for your friendship.”

“I thought we already established that a complete and utter lack of modesty was _your_ thing.”

“Yeah, but, Blake.” She places a hand on Blake’s shoulder and tilts her head. “It could be _ours_.”

“I… don’t even know what that means.”

“Me either. But it sounds cool, right?” She winks, knocks back the rest of her drink, and leans back, popping her hip.

It’s… really hot.

And it’s only then that Blake realizes she’s already finished her drink.

“I think we should dance now,” Blake rasps.

“Babe.” Yang drawls, plucking the empty glass from Blake’s hand and setting it (and hers) on the table behind her. “I am _all_ yours.”

 

—

 

She should have realized it before, but dancing with Yang at Beacon could never have prepared Blake for _this_.

Yang can _dance_ . Not like Jaune or Weiss or even Ren, but with her hips and closeness and confidence. She’s easy to dance with, or, maybe _easy_ isn’t the word, since Blake’s nerves are fried and her heart is vibrating rather than beating — but it’s instinctive, like breathing. Swaying with Yang, curling fingers around the bone of her hip, happens without any particular thought, which is good, since Blake doesn’t think she’d have the brain function to manage it otherwise.

She’d never been one to sink into a sensation like this, to slip into something without control or breaks. But Yang rolls her hips against hers and her breath brushes past her ear, she hums with the music and strings her fingers gently along the bare skin of her back, and it’s different.

With Yang she falls and still feels safe.

 

—

 

(On the way home, Nora — not drunk, just herself — serenades them with a song about a huntress and her weapon, which is _definitely_ a metaphor for something that makes Ruby’s entire face turn the same shade as her cloak, once she figures it out after a startling number of verses.

Yang carries Weiss — definitely drunk and not herself at all — on her back and laughs so hard she nearly falls over when Weiss starts to sing along during the chorus.

It’s cold, but most of them forgo their coats and huddle together instead.

Blake feels content and forgets to look up and miss the stars.)

 

—

 

There’s a note tucked in her hand when she awakens. She vaguely recalls waking up earlier — something murmured in her ear and a warm press to her forehead — but she’s unable to put any of it together until she unrolls the scrap of paper and finds Yang’s hasty scrawl.

_Me and Ruby had to go meet with Qrow. Weiss nearly killed Ruby when she tried to wake her (I’m not even exaggerating) and you looked super cute sleeping so we figured we’d let you both rest. Don’t know when we’ll be back, but it might take a little while. I left my sunglasses for Weiss on the table by the door. She’s definitely going to need them._

_P.S. Please wait to make fun of Weiss for getting DRUNK until I’m there. Or take pictures._

A little heart and Yang’s name follows the message and Blake presses two fingers to it, wearing a sort of smile she’d hardly recognize on herself. The same cannot be said for Weiss, who apparently recognizes it immediately.

“Ugh, stop looking like a lovestruck idiot,” she groans, reaching for a pillow and slamming it over her head. “I’m gonna cut my eyeballs out of my face.”

“That feels a _little_ dramatic.”

“Blake, there is a Queen Lancer inside of my head and it is stinging my brain over and over again while also playing the timpani.”

“Wow. Yeah. Nevermind about what I said about being dramatic. That was just poetic.”

“ _Blake_!”

Because she’s a _great_ friend, she hides her laughter behind her hand, then rolls forward onto her knees and pats Weiss’s hair gently.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got just the thing.”

 

—

 

Yang’s glasses are comically large on Weiss’s face, but they do the trick; Weiss manages to stumble out of the apartment and follow Blake towards the café around the block with only two or three comments about the sun being overrated and/or unnecessary. Blake leave her outside while she orders and when she returns, Weiss has settled into a more sullen sort of silence, the cool air and the promise of coffee calming her enough to not fix a glare on anyone who comes within a range of ten feet.

“I think we should walk,” Blake suggests softly, pressing the warm cup into Weiss’s hands.

“Walk where?”

Blake shrugs. “Anywhere you want.”

It’s a little startling to see Weiss like this, hair loose, eyes hidden, and indecision so plainly shown on her face, but eventually she nods and strides away without further comment, which feels a lot more normal. Less so is the _quiet_ ; Weiss takes them through side streets and back alleyways where they pass few people, and Blake is content to follow her without question, only a few steps behind. Atlas isn’t exactly a place she feels comfortable in, but away from the ridgid streets and bright lamps, it feels a little more like home.

It feels like Weiss isn’t leading them anywhere in particular until they take another sharp corner and suddenly there’s… green. Blake blinks repeatedly at the forest now in front of her and eventually it shifts into something that makes more sense: a large park in the middle of the city, roots and leaves strictly contained within the boundaries, but allowed to flourish inside of it.

“How—?”

“The climate is controlled inside the park,” Weiss explains, gesturing towards a faint yellow bubble surrounding the greenery. “So we can grow plants from all around Remnant. The Menagerie section is a little… humid for my taste, but the flowers are beautiful. I thought you’d like to see it.”

Blake tears her eyes away from the sight to fix Weiss with a smile.

“This morning is supposed to be all about taking care of you, you know.” She winces, realizing. “We… probably should have done a better job of that last night.”

“Yes, well, you were _slightly_ distracted.” The little drawl is so very _Weiss_ , but without any of the bite she can sometimes deliver. Still, Blake blushes and jerks her gaze back towards the park as though reacting to a physical burn.

“And _please_ ,” Weiss continues. “I’d take a thousand hangovers if it meant seeing my teammates happy. Obviously.”

“We’re…” She attempts a gesture that’s meant to be helpful: some kind of half flip of her wrist; it doesn’t mean anything at all and ends with her crossing her arms in defeat.

“Stupidly in love with each other?” Weiss suggests and this time, Blake’s whole body jerks.

“I — ”

Weiss sighs, patting her arm gently. “Sorry. I’m still feeling... a _little_ peevish. And that was _probably_ too blunt for a Friday morning. Or... anytime.”

“No. It’s — it’s fine.” She offers a smile. “You’re blunt and I’m overwhelmed so this all is fairly on-brand for both of us.”

“ _Not_ a flattering assessment.”

But once again, it’s said without any heat; Blake laughs softly and shakes her head before taking Weiss’s arm and stepping out to cross the street.

“There’s something to be said for knowing who you are.”

Weiss slips into silence for a moment, pushing up the sunglasses that had started to slip off her nose. When they reach the border of the park, she steps through the barrier without any hesitation, like she’s done it a million times before. Blake follows with more delay and care, one foot nudged forward first and then, when nothing in particular happens, the rest of her.

“Maybe. But, Blake, that’s… not who you are.”

She might have been able to blame the sudden change in temperature for the way her hackles rise, but the sensation doesn’t lessen even as her body adjusts, avoiding Weiss’s stare as she looks around her. The trees here are thick and familiar, the smell of their sap filling the air. They belong to the mountains of Vale, she’s sure, and is hit with sharp pang of nostalgia.

“I just mean… for someone so good at figuring other people out, you don’t always see yourself so well.”

“I — don’t know what you mean.”  She focuses on the bark of the trunk, pressing her fingers to it with infinite care.

“Anyone would be feeling overwhelmed in your position! I mean, the whole _world_ is in danger, for one! And the mission we _thought_ we had isn’t really something we can _do_ , since the woman — or, being or whatever — who wants to kill us is _immortal_ . And you _just_ had to… _get rid of_ someone who’s caused you pain your whole life, but still mattered to you, at one point. And now there’s _Yang_ and obviously I adore her but she’s _so_ much, Blake. Yang and Ruby, they both love so _much_ and it’s…” She trails off, eyes dropping to the dirt path they’ve barely started down, digging the tip of her boot into the soil. “Something you’re still getting used to. Maybe.”

Attention now solely on Weiss as the realization floods her, Blake takes in and lets out a deep breath.

“You’re right,” she says softly. “ _Anyone_ would be feeling overwhelmed with all that. And that’d be okay.”

Weiss keeps her head down, but looks up at her above the rim of her sunglasses. “You need to be nicer to yourself, Blake. Because if anyone else had gone through all that, I bet you’d think they were… really, really brave.”

“I do.” The smile comes then, as she corrects herself. “I mean, I _would_. If anyone else had gone through all that.”

“Good.” Weiss nods once to herself, then straightens, shaking out her hair. “So, I think you should say it. Right now.”

“Say… it?”

“Yes.”

Blake’s nose wrinkles slightly in discomfort, but Weiss keeps her stare steady until she finally relents.

“It’s understandable that I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”

Weiss’s eyebrow juts above her glasses. “And?”

“And I’m… brave.”

It’s stupid, probably. Something she says just to encourage Weiss.

But it feels good anyways.

(It feels a little bit like something that might even be true.)

“Good. I’m glad we’ve cleared all that up,” she sniffs. “As teammates with partners that are often overwhelming, I feel as though we have to look out for one another, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Blake takes a sip of her tea to keep from smiling too much. “Thanks, Weiss.”

“Of course,” she says, with put-upon casualness. “Just promise me that when you _do_ get there, you and Yang will _never_ makeout anywhere _near_ me.”

Blake chokes on her tea.  

 

—

 

Ruby and Yang are at the apartment when they get back. Yang has Ruby in a headlock and is chanting something completely unintelligible as they walk in. It’s worlds apart from the quiet greenhouse they’d just left.

“WEISS,” Yang calls loudly, literally dropping her sister on the ground. “WELCOME BACK _._ HOW ARE YOU FEELING?”

“I _hate_ you.”

Somehow, it feels like coming home.

 

—

 

“Yang?”

The woman looks up from her scroll; the signs of boredom slip from her features, replaced quickly by  hopefulness.

“You done with the… map-thingy?”

The ‘map-thingy’ had been Ruby’s idea, a place to compile Weiss’s knowledge of the upper echelon of Atlesian society and Blake’s understanding of the various Faunus neighborhoods in Mantle to make better sense of the area as a whole. It wasn’t a bad idea, but it was a passive one, and Yang had grown slightly tired of the back and forth after only the fine details were left, electing to instead stretch out on one of the mattresses and scour for news.

“Yeah. For now. But should probably actually go out and talk to people tomorrow, to see how accurate it is.”

Allowing her restlessness to finally show, Yang sits up, tossing her scroll behind her without a single thought. “Or we could go now!”

“I actually had… another idea.”

Yang looks up, eagerness in her eyes, but waits for Blake to continue.

“I thought we could go out. Just the two of us, like we talked about.”

Yang’s smile is like the dawn.

(She could stare at it forever, sit there and soak up all its warmth without ever growing bored.)

“Yeah?” She stands, holding Blake’s stare the whole while. “Now? Shit, Blake, I still haven’t figured out what we should do!”

“That’s okay.” She reaches for Yang’s right hand, cupping the metal between both of her own. “I know exactly what we’re doing.”

“Oo _oh_ are we going somewhere?”

Ruby appears within the span of a blink, face popping above Yang’s shoulder, arms around her neck tight enough to cause asphyxiation. Another blink and she’s gone, yanked off and leaving Yang sputtering and coughing in her wake. Blake releases her hand to pat her back absentmindedly as she watches the two other members of their team with no small amount of amusement.

“This is not a _we_ situation, Ruby,” Weiss whispers loudly, tugging Ruby off the ground that she’d apparently pulled her down onto first.

“What do you…?” Ruby stumbles a little, looking down at her boots as she nearly trips over the laces.

“ _Ruby_ . Blake and Yang have _something to do_.”

Weiss taps on the bottom of Ruby’s chin to get her to look up, where Yang and Blake both wait with crooked grins, though Blake’s is somewhat more subdued (but only through _great_ effort). Ruby looks between then, then follows the slope of Blake’s hand where it rests behind Yang’s back.

“Oh my god, it’s _happening_.”

“Ruby!” Weiss groans.

“I mean…” Ruby crosses her arms in an entirely unsuccessful attempt to look casual. “See you guys later. Or… whatever.”

“ _Very_ smooth, sis.” Yang winks. “I could learn _so much_ from you.”

“ _Shut up, Yang!_ ”

Weiss grabs the back of Ruby’s cloak before she can even think about lunging for her sister.

“Have a great time. Blake. Yang.” Her grip only tightens as Yang passes Ruby and muses her hair. (Blake, a bit more gentle, but not entirely unable to resist the teasing, pats her cheek.)

“Don’t wait up,” Blake says, and is rewarded by Yang’s wide grin and two loud groans.  

 

—

 

“Holy shit, Blake.”

“Weiss mentioned it this morning. When we were at the park.”

“Holy shit, Blake.”

“She called it a ‘childish and run-down disgrace of an enterprise’.”

“Holy _shit_ , Blake.”

Blake grins, leaning into Yang’s side. “Are you going to say anything else?”

“No,” Yang murmurs, tearing her eyes away from the blinking (mostly lit) neon light letters towering above her. “I can’t. I’m too caught on how perfect you are.”

Predictably, Blake blushes.

“No, I’m serious,” Yang continues. “But… that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you win. Like, at all. I hope you’re ready for your ego to take a hit, Belladonna, because I’m going to pretty much destroy you in every game in here. Purposefully limiting my prowess with a trackball or joystick would really be _insulting_ to you.” She puts a hand to her heart. “I respect you way too much to do that.”

“Prowess, huh? That’s what you’re going to go with?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, that’s the _only_ word someone could use. You will too, once you see it.”

“Wow. Okay, um, suddenly I’m having difficulty remembering why I like you. I can’t see past the ego to remember anything else.”

Yang laughs and takes her hand, twining their fingers together.

“Sorry. But I’m here with _you_ . And you brought me to an _arcade_ . So, like, _objectively speaking_ , I’m on the best date that’s ever existed on the whole of Remnant. I’m going to be feeling great about myself for a while.”

It’s the first time either of them has said it out loud, labeled it precisely for what it is, despite the implication being so clearly understood by _everyone_ on the team.

“Alright.” Her voice is softer now, rounded out by _‘date’_ and the way it had sounded coming from Yang’s lips. “I guess I can’t blame you for that.”

_The Manticade_ is, admittedly, just as run-down as Weiss had promised, but there’s a charm to it that instantly overpowers Yang, and, in turn, sweeps up Blake through mere proximity. The games are _old_ — retro, free-standing, coin-operated arcade cabinets — with worn buttons and pixels missing from the screens. Yang buys an alarming amount of tokens as soon as they find a counter (promising to win Blake a teddy bear as large as either of them, covered in enough dust to suggest it’s sat there for years), before dragging Blake through the building. Her knowledge of the various games on display is more vast than even Blake had expected; she’s able to recognize almost of all them, but when she catches sight of a tall, cabinet with multi-colored blocks and a stark white font, she stops, the glee on her face shifting into something softer, maybe even wistful.

“I can’t believe they have _Grimm Fate_.”

There’s no one playing the game currently, but Yang walks up slowly and stops just in front of it, hand twitching at her side. It’s an odd reaction to have to a video game (not that Blake thought that any strong reaction to pixels was any less strange), and Blake’s not quite sure what to say, opting to squeeze Yang’s hand gently instead.

“We used to play this all the time when we were kids,” Yang eventually says, voice quiet. “It was Summer’s favorite game. Like, _hard_ favorite. The first one only ever came like this — it never got released on any of the home systems — so the rest of STRQ chipped in and bought her the whole cabinet as a graduation present. It’s… still at home. Down in the basement.”

Her smile grows slightly as she finally reaches out with her right hand, lying it over the controls.

“Dad used to tease Summer for playing a game where you killed _digital_ Grimm, right after she’d gotten back from a mission. But it was sort of like, our thing. Ruby was too little to play, but she taught me and I got pretty good. Not as good as Summer though. She was _awesome_.”

“Let me guess. You played as this Huntress.” She points to one of the characters displayed underneath the screen, the woman with spiky blonde hair, wearing a shocking yellow coat, and Yang laughs.

“Man, I’m way too predictable. But Yellow was _cool_!”

“‘Yellow’? Really?”

“Yeah, um, plot and character development was _not_ a strong suit of the Grimm Fate series. Everyone was just named after the color they wore and some of the semblences were kind of lame, too. Nothing ever really happened either; you just kill Grimm after Grimm until you get overwhelmed and die.”

Blake winces. “That’s… optimistic.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t really think about it back then.” She pauses, then brightens and pulls out a handful of tokens, which she places on the gametop. “We’re playing though. Come on.”

With a little shrug, Blake drops Yang’s hand and comes to stand alongside her at the controls, taking them somewhat awkwardly.

“You know I have no idea how to play this.”

“It’s cool.” Yang slams down on the start button for two players and offers an encouraging grin. “You just have to pick your character first. Obviously, I will be playing as Yellow, badass adventurer and slayer of the mightest Grimm.”

“Does it matter?” She squints at the screen, nudging the joystick to flip between different characters.

“Not really. They all have different semblances and weapons, but their stats are all the time.” Her lips curl in amusement. “Actually, Yellow and Black basically do the same thing with their semblance; Yellow can blind Grimm with this, like, flashbang thing, and Black makes the screen go really dark for a second and the Grimm can’t see for a little while after. Um, what else? Pink can make certain Grimm attack other Grimm for a while, Blue does this lame water spout thing, Green can heal, Purple shoots these magic beams kind of like Goodwitch, and Orange can buff other players to make them stronger.”

Yang smiles, watching her little yellow sprite dance around the screen as it waits for its partner to be selected. “I taught Ruby how to play once she was old enough. Summer wasn’t… there, then. But I tried to teach her everything I’d learned. She wanted to play as Red at first — oh yeah, Red turns into this giant, behemoth dude who can take a _ton_ of damage — but she wasn’t very good at him. But she was great at Orange. Dad played as Green and the three of us would get pretty far.”

Blake flicks through the options once more before settling on Black. When Yang shoots her a look, she just shrugs.

“If you get to be predictable, then so do I.”

“Fine,” Yang sighs. “But I _just_ told you they basically have the same semblance!”

“Then we’ll chain them one after the other and take care of the stronger Grimm without getting hit.”

“You don’t even _know_ how to play this game,” Yang teases, bumping her hip. “You can’t talk strategy already. Besides, you can’t use your semblance all the time in this game, so you have to build— Ooh, okay we’re starting!”

The screen goes dark, then relights, showing a scene that’s probably meant to be a forrest, given the brown sticks with green puffs surrounding the area. Yang pushes her joystick right and the yellow figure surges forward towards a single grey-ish blob with red streaks.

“The graphics in this game leave something to be desired,” Blake mumbles. “Also, as you literally _just_ said, I don’t know how to play this game! Teach me!”

Yang’s fingers fly across the buttons and the Grimm on screen melt into a red puddle.  

“Okay, so the joystick controls movement: forward, back, and jump. The red button is your basic attack — Black uses a gun so you hit that to shoot — and the blue button lets you block a little, though you still take damage if the Grimm hit you. The white button is your semblance but you can only use it when the meter under your character portrait is full, which happens when you’ve done a lot of damage, so you should make sure to time it so that you’re not wasting it on lame mobs like these.”

Blake nudges her character forward gently, tapping on the red button carefully; a stream of dots emerges from the black sprite and hits the Grimm in front until he turns red and vanishes.

“And I can’t hit you, right?”

“Psh, you couldn’t even if you _tried_! But no, no friendly fire. So just, like… hit that button as fast as you can. Eventually, we’ll run into Grimm that can reflect damage, so you have to jump over them and make them run into the walls and stuff, but I’ll tell you when that — oh, shit, they’re starting to come from your side now so...”

“Wait, I thought we just _came_ from there. Didn’t we clear that area before moving forward? What kind of Huntsmen _are_ we?”

She jams down on the block button as her character is swarmed by Grimm, but it doesn’t seem to have much effect.

“Yeah, logic isn’t a strong suit of _Grimm Fate_ either. The Grimm just come from everywhere, forever. They get harder and harder as you move into new areas, like, the mountains or desert or volcano or whatever.”

“You fight Grimm in a volcano?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome.”

Yang’s tongue sticks out a little as she plays, and Blake finds herself momentarily distracted by the sight until the game flashes repeatedly and makes a deep gong sound.

“Oh shit.” Yang laughs loudly. “I’ve never seen anyone die so early before.”

Blake flushes, grabbing another coin and rejoining the game. “I’m new at this!”

“Yeah, but, like, I think Ruby made it further when she was a _baby_. A literal infant.” Yang swerves out of the way of her punch, grin on her face as she focuses on the screen. “We’d put her in her high chair and she’d just randomly hit the buttons with her little baby fist and she still made it to, like, level two.”

“You are _so_ mean to me. I can’t believe I brought you here.”

“ _I_ can’t believe that I’m going to have to totally carry this whole team on Yellow’s shoulders. Poor girl is never going to see the volcano arena when she’s stuck in this kind of partnership.”

“I hope she falls in the lava.”

“Okay, _that’s_ really rude because that’s how I always died and you’re reminding me of deeply upsetting childhood disappointments.”

“Seriously? You can actually fall in the lava?”

“Yeah, it sucks _a lot_ . You have to time your jumps perfectly, and there are flying Grimm that knock you off the little platforms. Me and Ruby never got past that level, even with Dad playing with us. He always _claimed_ that Team STRQ made it past though. Actually.” Yang laughs again, grin spreading with the memory. “He said that there _was_ a way to beat the game and that STRQ had done it once, though it took them like, three days to get through it all.”

“I thought you said it was just endless Grimm?”

She accidently hits her semblance button for the first time; the entire screen goes black for a split second and the lone Grimm on the screen gets a little twirling icon over her head. Yang shoots her a look and Blake takes both hands off the controls to shrug.

“Well, we always figured Dad was just being a jerk, trying to prove that he and Summer were that much better than us. Which… okay, they _were_ , but Ruby and I refused to absorb that kind of negativity. And I never wanted to look it up because I didn’t want _spoilers_. I had to earn seeing what came after the volcano.”

“Of course,” Blake says fondly.

“But it’s nice to think about now, I guess.” Her lips twist into a grimace. “Otherwise it _does_ hit a _little_ too close to home.”

Blake dies again, with the same general excuse. She slides another coin in the machine and rejoins.

“Maybe the message is that you need to work with a full team to succeed?”

“Saying that _Grimm Fate_ has any kind of message is probably a stretch. But… yeah, when you get a good group that uses their semblances well, it makes it a lot easier, even if there are more enemies when there are more players.”

“So that just means that in order to fulfill your dream of beating this game — ”

“If my dad wasn’t just messing with us.”

“ — you’ll just have to convince Weiss to play with us.”

Yang’s lips press into a thin line, meant to conceal a smile more than anything. “Mm. Yeah. What — what chance is there of that happening, Blake? Wanna put a percentage on that?”

“Oh, that’s tough. Really difficult to say.”

“Maybe if I bribe her, then also get Ruby to bribe her  — but, like, emotionally — and then _also_ win some kind of bet against her. What about then?”

“Hmm...” Blake nods in thought, trying not to smile as she watches Yang lose control over hers. “Zero. Exactly zero percent.”

“So, the exact same chance you have of surviving this boss fight?”

A particularly large grey and red blob emerges, shaking the whole of the screen, then charges across it. The yellow sprite leaps over it with perfect timing. The black one does not. The death gong sounds again.

“Ugh, _Yang_! A little warning?”

Yang laughs loudly, leaning into the arcade cabinet with the force of it, but still manages to take down the boss with a flurry of button presses. She doesn’t realize how closely she’s watching until Yang turns away from the game during the cutscene transitioning to a new area, smirk in place.

“I’m _really_ good with my hands, right?”

Blake folds one arm over the other. “You have a lot of practice. With this _particular_ use of them.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think the skill is pretty transferable.” Yang waggles her eyebrows. “Come here. I’ll show you.”

Her previous blushes have _nothing_ on this one. She can practically feel the heat issuing from her face.

“W — what?”

“Come here.” She crooks a finger and the look on her face says she knows _exactly_ what she’s doing. “Play as Yellow. I’ll show you how.”

The next level — a mountainous region — has already started, but Yang pays her declining health bar little mind as Blake steps closer. Instead, she reaches out and guides Blake to the controls and slides in behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, hands settling over hers.

“I’m... not sure if this is going to help much,” she rasps.

Yang’s laugh brushes right against her ear and _yeah_ , their little Huntress is definitely be pummeled by Grimm that no one is attempting to attack. But then Yang leans forward just a bit more, chin falling on Blake’s shoulder, and spreads Blake’s fingers a little more, placing each on a different button, and nudges the hand holding the joystick up and to the right, helping _slightly_.

“Hand placement is really important,” she murmurs.

“Mmm.” She waits for a moment, hopping over a few Grimm and slicing a few more with Yellow’s sword. “You know that I can see _right_ through you, Xiao Long.”

“Well, yeah.” Yang grins; Blake can see it partially reflected on the screen, but it’s the feeling of it spreading across her shoulder that she recognizes first. “It’s only fun if you know, but let me do it anyways.”

Yellow’s aura dips into the red. Yang doesn’t seem especially concerned, but Blake suddenly finds she has the motivation to try a little harder. (On the next round, at least.)

“Well… keep doing it then. Because, Yang?” She twists her head, Yang’s hair brushing against her cheek. “I’m definitely going to keep letting you.”

Finally, it’s Yang’s turn to blush.

 

—

 

“I _told_ you not to use your prosthetic.”

Yang’s face is slightly pink from their escape from the arcade, hair a little disheveled. If Blake hadn’t already lost her breath from the run (and her laughter), she might have had it taken away again by the sight.

“Look, it was a _right_ \- _handed_ game! And how could I have known that the boltings were a _little_ rusty? Besides, I still beat it, right? That totally should have counted as a win.”

“Generally, an arm wrestling match doesn’t end with someone ripping their opponent’s arm off.”

Yang shrugs, smile careless and at-ease. “Still, that dude _way_ over-reacted. It’s not my fault all his games are antiques! You gotta take care of those babies, and _clearly_ he hasn’t been.”

“Mmhmm.” Blake steps closer, wrapping both her arms around one of Yang’s as they continue to walk, pace slow. “You’re just mad because you couldn’t get the teddy bear.”

“I was robbed, Blake. _We_ were robbed. That bear was going to look so great on top of the broken couch in our apartment.”

“What a throne.” She pauses, considering. “I… had one like it, actually. When I was a kid.”

Yang smiles, soft and slow. “Really? I can’t really picture it.”

“I know! My dad got it for me; he likes to do big, sweet things like that, but he’s not the best at giving gifts, so I’m pretty sure someone at the store told him that’s what all little girls want.” She hums a little, looking down. “I guess I didn’t really appreciate it then, that the gesture is just as important as the gift.”

“If this is your way of saying you’re glad I didn’t win the teddy bear and you never want me to try again, then _fine,_ message received.”

Blake nudges her gently, but they both laugh.

“Seriously, though,” Yang continues. “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself. You can’t expect a little kid to understand that kind of stuff. That’s part of what growing up is all about, taking notice of the intentions behind anything that happens. And learning what really matters. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess. I just feel like…” She trails off. Yang allows the silence, waits patiently, eyes scanning the mostly empty street before coming back to find Blake’s.

“I feel like I should have figured it out before I did. It took me so long to go home, and I only did because — I only did because I was running away from something else.”

“Blake…”

She turns to avoid Yang’s gaze, but the other woman stops, carefully disentangles her arm, and takes both of Blake’s hands in her own so she might face her directly.

“Hey, we’re fine now. I think — I hope — even better than we were. And from what you’ve said, your parents are just happy to have you back. We’re — we’re _nineteen_. We’re going to mess up a lot, all of us. Sure, our screw-ups feel a lot bigger since like, weight of the world and all that…”

Despite herself, Blake lets out a soft snort, and her eyes lift back up to meet Yang’s.

“ _But,_ we’re not going to be perfect. You ran and that sucks, for your parents and your team, but… you came back. Both times. You made things right. You faced things you didn’t think you could face, and you came out on top. You don’t have to keep beating yourself up about it. Any of it.”

Blake nods slowly, exhaling with the same speed.

“I’m scared,” she admits, voice little more than a whisper. “I’m going to stay, but I’m terrified something’s going to go wrong.”

“I know.” One of Yang’s hands slips from hers and finds her cheek. She hasn’t put her gloves back on, but despite the cold, they’re as warm as always. “I’m scared too.”

“Not the best thing for two Huntresses to be, I don’t think.” A smile flickers across her face — an attempt at levity.

Yang doesn’t smile back. Instead, she licks her lips and shakes her head once.

“We can be scared. What matters is that… we’re still brave. That even if we’re not sure how it’s going to turn out, we do the things that are right anyways. Don’t you think?” _Then_ she smiles, and it’s not difficult to figure out what the right thing is in this case, here and now.

Blake kisses her.

Soft and careful. She brushes her lips against Yang’s with all the bravery she’s ever possessed, with everything she’s wanted to express for the past year. Yang’s fingers curl around her jaw, soft and careful too, as she kisses her back, and it’s exactly the answer she was looking for.

When she pulls away, Yang’s eyes are closed and her smile is everything and Blake knows that she lives in that curve of Yang’s lips.

“Blake Belladonna,” she breathes, eyes fluttering open. “I would have waited forever for you.”

“I know,” Blake murmurs. “But we’ve waited long enough.”

 

—

 

(Ruby and Weiss _do_ wait up, it turns out, though both pretend to be asleep as soon as Blake and Yang step through the door to the apartment. Yang grabs a pillow and throws it at Ruby’s head, who tries to hide her yelp with an extremely unconvincing yawn.

“It’s late. We’re going to bed,” Yang announces, before flopping onto their mattress and kicking off her boots. “We’ll _not_ be taking any questions at this time. Thank you.”

Ruby giggles. Weiss grins. But neither girl says a word.

Blake figures her smile answers any questions they might have asked anyways.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is supposed to be a Blake story, but the love I have for Weiss jumped out of me and punched me in the face so here we are. This is so self-indulgent, I'm dying. 
> 
> I already had this next chapter all written so here's basically a 2-for-1. The last bit will take a little longer because there are some scenes I have to figure out still. Alas! 
> 
> Thanks for the kind words. :)


	3. a perfect pane of glass

 

 

 _I will bring a mirror, so silver, so exact_  
_So precise and so pristine, a perfect pane of glass  
_  
_I will set the mirror up to face the blackened sky_  
_You will see your beauty every moment that you rise_

 

—

 

“Blake,” Weiss calls. “I think you and Ruby should go pick up some groceries today.”

It’s said casually, with a perfectly pleasant smile. Even without the way Ruby grins (and then attempts and fails to _hide_ said grin), it’s immediately suspicious. Yang, who’d dropped her head in Blake’s lap not ten minutes before, raises an eyebrow and looks about ready to say as such, but Blake shakes her head gently.

“Sure. Seems like something we should get over with.”

“Excellent. Then you’ll leave soon. Once Ruby is _ready_.”

Ruby blinks, glancing back and forth between Weiss’s expectant expression and Blake’s gentle amusement, and nods several times.

“Right! I will get changed! And then we’ll go! Get groceries!”

She zips off, disappearing into one of the bedrooms, and Weiss nods to herself, as though only _just_ satisfied with the speed.

“We’ve been awake for a full hour,” Yang mumbles under her breath. “I guess we have to give her some credit for patience.”

“Do we?” She strokes her fingers carefully through Yang’s hair, pleased when the woman releases a soft sigh of contentment. “You’re less annoyed than I thought you might be.”

“Honestly? I’ve never gotten _The Talk_ before. This is kind of _exciting_. I feel like Weiss is going to like, have me kidnapped and taken to a dark basement where she can shine a super bright light directly at my face and shout out questions.” She pauses, brow pinching slightly in thought. “Do you think I should cower? I want her to feel like she’s doing a good job as the protective best friend.”

“Oh my god, Yang. She’s not going to take you to a _basement_.”

Yang tilts her head slightly, gives her a _look_.

“She’s _probably_ not going to take you to a basement,” Blake amends. “She’s your best friend too.”

“Yeah, well, Ruby obviously has to do _yours_ since she’s my sister.” Yang stifles a laugh, lips twitching in amusement. “Man, do you think you can film it? I feel like she has no idea what’s going on. Weiss probably gave her a script or something, right?”

Blake lifts her thigh slightly, bumping the back of Yang’s head. “I’m sure she’ll do a great job.”

“... At _intimidating_ you into treating me right? We’re still talking about Ruby.”

“Ruby is an extremely capable Huntress who would be difficult to best in a match,” Blake says evenly, then pauses. “She also has super-powered eyes.”

“Blake, when we got back last night, she was _vibrating_ with excitement. I think I saw her shed a few petals.”

“How _awful_ for you to have such a supportive sister.”

“ _All_ I’m saying is that I’m definitely going to get more of the _experience_ with Weiss. Like, when my dad and mom got together, Qrow left a pig heart stabbed with a knife in Dad’s bed.”

“You realize that’s _incredibly_ unhealthy. And disturbing.”

“Yeah,” Yang chirps. “But funny.”

“You need serious help.”

Yang sits up, kisses her cheek, and stands, stretching her arms out wide before offering Blake a hand up. She takes it, of course, charmed by both the casual nature of it and the soft lift of Yang’s brow.

“You know I’m only kidding, right?” she asks, voice softer now. “I trust you with everything. And so do Ruby and Weiss.”

“I know.” She touches Yang’s cheek, a brush of the pads of her fingers again the skin, and ignores the feeling of eyes at her back for just another second, before stepping back. “Ready to go, Ruby?”

When she turns, Ruby is right there, waiting on the tip of her toes with a wide grin.

“For a Ladybug shopping trip? You _bet_!”

“Still using the names, huh?” Blake laughs, stepping forward to place an arm around Ruby’s shoulder and lead her towards the door. “I’m glad.”

“Uh, duh. The names are incredible! _And_ it makes Jaune jealous.” She twists a little to wave at Weiss and Yang. “Bye, guys!”

“Have fun with the dungeon!” Blake adds, and is rewarded with the sound of Yang’s laughter, only fading out as she closes the door to the apartment behind them.

“The dungeon? Is that—” Ruby’s nose wrinkles up. “Is that something I don’t want to know about?”

“Just a joke. We figured Weiss has a whole plan for intimidation and interrogation.” She tilts her head. “You can get yours out of the way now, if you want. Want to take out Crescent Rose?”

To her surprise, Ruby laughs. “I always want to take out Crescent Rose! But _nah_. I’m not going to do any of that stuff. I would have stopped Weiss too if I didn’t think Yang would find it funny.” She pauses. “Plus, Weiss said we should stop taking out our weapons in public places because the Atlesian Military _might_ shoot us.”

She’s thrown for a bit by the conclusion, but rewinds a little, smile present but confused. “No big talk then? I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t. That’s why I don’t need to do anything.” She hops on to one of the curbsides, wobbles, then grabs Blake’s arm for balance as she continues forward.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” She balances on one leg, then skips onto the other. It’s a cute sort of hop, but Blake can see the crease in her forehead and knows she’s considering her next words with care. This knowledge hardly prepares her for them, though.

“Did you think about Yang when you were gone?”

Blake freezes in place; Ruby, no longer with any balance assistance, stumbles back on to the sidewalk in front of her, eyes wide.

“Of — of course I did! Every _day_ I thought — I thought about what I’d done and how she was doing and how much she must hate me and —”

A warm hand on her wrist stops her; it takes a moment before she realizes it’s Ruby, looking up at her with an apologetic smile.

“That’s what I mean. You’re not going to hurt Yang. Not when you know how bad it feels.” Her hand slides down to slip into Blake’s. She tugs on it once to get them moving again. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. _Really_. I just — _I_ don’t need to tell you not to break Yang’s heart _or else_ , or… whatever I’m supposed to say. Because I figure you’re already telling yourself that. Right?”

“I just…” Blake sighs, some of the tension leaking back out of her posture. “I want to get this right. Yang means… a lot to me. Obviously.”

Ruby nods, frowning a little in thought, and when she does speak, it’s slow and cautious.

“You know, Yang’s never… felt about anyone like she feels about you. She’s _been_ with people, or whatever. But it’s never been…” She lets the thought go, kicking at a rock in their path without any real force, almost idly.

“Yang and I don’t really talk about it,” she continues, quieter this time. “She’s always had lots of friends and some of those friends were _more than friends_ , but it’s the one thing we never really talk about it because she knows that I don’t… get it. Even if she weren’t my _sister_ , which makes it gross, that stuff isn’t really for me, you know?”

Blake nods slowly and waits for Ruby to continue. There’s a flush of red across her cheeks that only recedes when Blake squeezes her hand and offers a smile, which Ruby returns, taking a breath in and pressing forward.

“But... we talk about you. We talk about you _all the time_ because it’s so much more than just _that_ kind of stuff. So, it’s new for Yang. New and really important. And she really wants to get it right too. So, if you both care so much, then it’ll always turn out okay! Even if things get hard or complicated, at least you know you’ll always care about each other and you’ll always do your best to make each other happy!”

A surge of affection for their team leader passes through her and she’s reminded once again just how far they’ve all come.

“You’re pretty good at this,” she says, a half smile in place. “I wish I would’ve had you around when I was younger.”

Ruby glances back at her, face a picture of indecision. Still flush with sentiment, Blake nudges her gently, releasing her hand to tap her on the bicep with her elbow.

“What?”

“Do you mean… because of Adam?” Ruby asks, hesitant even after being given permission.

As always, the name has an instant effect: a sharp spike of panic, a flip of her stomach, a tightening of the muscles in her back. But the reactions fade more quickly now, lessen into something more manageable in a few heartbeats.

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Adam was… complicated.”

It’s Ruby’s turn to wait, tugging slightly on the hood of her cloak as Blake gathers her thoughts.

“It’s… easy to see all the warning signs now, but back then, Adam was everything I thought I wanted. Or — I guess I _saw_ everything I wanted. He was strong and passionate and charming, but… not really. It was more like he was a perversion of all those things. I saw strength, but he was just controlling. Not passionate, but spiteful. And... he _was_ charismatic, but he used it in all the wrong ways.”

She tucks her arms around herself, feeling the chill of the wind more acutely now.

“I guess I — eventually, I realized I’d fallen in love with an ideal of Adam, but after a while at Beacon, I started to understand that ideal was basically… Yang.” It’s the first time she’s said it out loud, and the thought fills her with a warmth that has her arms dropping down at her sides again.

“She _actually_ was all those things I admired: strong and passionate and charming. And on top of all of that she was _kind_ . Watching her with _you_ , seeing how she acted with the people she cared about, _that_ was new for me. Caring about someone like that and getting back something that was so selfless was… exhilarating. But I guess I was always waiting for something to go wrong. I’d been fooled before, hadn’t I?”

“And then the Mercury thing happened,” Ruby says, a tinge of sadness to her tone, even after all this time, though it drops away quickly. “But you believed her about it! After she promised. So that was good. _And_ that was two years ago. Things are different now.”

“They are,” Blake agrees with a smile. “Things are still going to go wrong in one way or another, but… not with Yang — not like that. And I’m glad that you’re not worried either. About me and Yang.”

“Are you kidding? It’s _awesome_!” Ruby actually jumps up in her excitement, feet kicking in the air, then grabs Blake around the waist in a side-hug. “You guy were always great battle partners and now you’re going to be great _girlfriend_ partners.”

Blake laughs, squirming a little on reflex, but still pats the smaller woman on the head. “Thanks, Ruby.”  

When Ruby looks up, her eyes look a little watery, and Blake has to swallow back a tide of emotion.  

“You’re the best teammate any of us could ask for. You know that right?”

“I don’t know about best,” she rasps. “But I — I know I’m getting better.”

“The _best_ ,” Ruby whispers, and hugs her all the harder.

 

—

 

They’re called back to the Atlesian Military compound a few days later; Weiss remains strangely tight-lipped about her call from Winter, only revealing it’s unconnected to their earlier conversations with Ironwood who, according to Winter, was still ‘processing’. It’s still uncomfortable, being in the middle of so many soldiers, but Winter moves through the compound with rapid strides, never once looking back to check on her four charges. She only stops once they reach a large metal door, somewhere in the middle of the maze of a base, turning to them with a look of warning.

“You have five hours. As your primary purpose is repair, this should be a sufficient amount of time. If not, you will have to return another day.”

“Thank you, Winter!” Weiss falls forward to wrap her sister in a hug, and though Winter glances around the empty hallway first, she does return it, with a surprising amount of warmth.

“Of course. Contact me when you are ready to leave, or if you run into any difficulties.” Her eyes narrow slightly as she glances away from her sister, back towards the rest of the group. “I have been told you all are familiar with proper forge technique and etiquette. Do not disappoint me or betray Weiss’s trust in your abilities.”

Ruby gasps; it echoes down the hall. “Did you say— ”

Winter presses her hand against a scanner tucked against the doorframe, and the metal barrier slides away.

“A _forge!_ ”

It’s certainly that. And then some. With shining machines, dust filled tubes, and assortment of untarnished tools, it’s a far cry from the small weapons workshop where she’d originally crafted Gambol Shroud. She’s heard time and time again about the superiority of Atlas technology, but it’s on full display here; Blake hasn’t even seen some of the more complicated machinery. Ruby, apparently without the same problem, darts around the room, putting on random bursts of speed as she travels from one device to the next, words an incoherent jumble of excitement.

“This. Is. AWESOME!”

“I think you broke her,” Yang tells Weiss (Winter having already walked away, lips pressed thin in what might have been regret).

“Yes, well, this was meant to be for _Blake,_ seeing as she’s the one who needs a new weapon.”

“Oh my _gosh_ , they have a 37DI3P with _lightning chambers_!”

“But…” A faint pink spreads across Weiss’s cheeks. “This is a nice side-benefit.”

“Weiss! How could you not _tell_ me! I would have prepared more specs on my scroll and gotten them ready for transfer to the printer and — well, okay, maybe I’ve already done that.” She darts back over to Blake, eyes wide and bright. “I’ve always thought Gambol Shroud could be converted into an SMG with just a _bit_ of tinkering and that would give you a _lot_ more firepower with more dust infusion and I’ve drawn up just a _few_ prototypes that we could _maybe_ load up today and test out just for fun or we could — ”

“Ruby. Breathe.” Yang steps forward and wraps an arm around Ruby’s shoulder, tugging her around, and shoots a wink back at Blake. “Why don’t you take a look at my arm while Blake figures out what she wants to do. It needs some cosmetic repairs, obviously. And I think the shotgun could use a little work. I was thinking about adding a reverse recoil so I could — ”

“Add even more power to your melee attacks!” Ruby basically wails, grabbing Yang by the arm and zipping them across the room to one of the workbenches. She has Yang shoved down into a seat with her prosthetic extended across the tabletop before Blake can even blink.

“Let me show you what we have to work with,” Weiss offers.

Blake smiles, nods, and follows her further into the room. When they pass Yang, nodding along to Ruby’s rapid chatter, she can’t help but lean down and press a soft kiss on her mouth (feel her lips curl against her own).

“Careful,” Yang breathes, once she pulls away. “Weiss might start crying again.”

“For the _last time_ , I wasn’t _crying_!”

“You’re right,” Blake nods. “If it can happen when she’s supposed to be interrogating you about your intentions, it’s even more likely to happen in a situations like this.”

Yang sighs. “Yeah, she’s just really emotional about our happiness, you know? Turns out when the Ice Queen starts to melt, it all comes out as tears.”

“Better than her boiling in anger. Then it’s all just steam.”

“Hey, this is all pretty new for her. Maybe she needs a little adv- _ice_.”

They both dissolve into laughter. Even Ruby isn’t quite able to hide her giggles behind her hand.

“I hope you two break up,” Weiss mumbles.

Her small smile speaks speaks otherwise.

 

—

 

“Remember when we overbored the barrel of the gun in Yang’s prosthetic?” Ruby whines, eyes a little glazed. “Or when Weiss optimized her Dust influx? Or when Blake updated her gun to an SMG with _caliber interchangeability_? Do you guys _remember that_?”

“It was two days ago,” Blake says. “So yes.”

“Well can we go back to doing that? Because this isn’t as fun.” Ruby pouts, steps dragging as they head back towards their apartment.

“ _This_ was your idea,” Yang interjects, punching her in the arm with a bit more force than she intends; Ruby goes flying into Weiss, who, rather uncharacteristically, remains silent as she helps brace her.

“I _know_. But now I vote we give up on it and make weapons instead.”

“Really?”

Ruby pouts. “ _No_. But I wish we could.”

“Atlas and Mantle are kind of…” Blake trails off, searching for something a bit kinder than what she has in mind.

“A shit-show,” Yang finishes, skipping niceties. “The rich people are assholes and want everyone to shut up and pretend like everything’s fine. The Faunus are pissed and hate the rich people for being assholes and hate everyone else for _letting_ them be assholes. Everyone hates every other nation because they think they’re trying to steal their tech or Dust or… what was it that one dude said?”

“Lifeblood. Vale is stealing their lifeblood,” Blake supplies.

“Yeah. That. I think he was probably just insane.” Yang shrugs. “Either way, everyone’s in a shit mood and the Council here _sure_ isn’t doing anything. Not to _mention_ all the prejudiced _dickwads_ here. I _am_ going to punch the next guy who looks at you funny, I swear, Blake. And then the people who were looking at Weiss like...” Yang’s eyes flash red as she lets out a frustrated snarl. “Ugh, this place sucks. I don’t know how you grew up here, Weiss. I really don’t.”

Blake glances over at the woman in question; she frowns a little, but says nothing.

“I think the best thing we could possibly do right at this very second is get _cookies_.” Ruby glances around the street, as though expecting a bakery to suddenly appear. “That will cheer all of us up.”

“It’ll certainly cheer _you_ up,” Yang teases.

“Everyone likes cookies! Which I _know_ because of that one time Dad sent _me_ his famous quadruple chocolate chip ones and even though I _hid_ them — ”

“In your weapon cleaning kit, the same place you _always_ use.”

“ — they were all gone in like, _two seconds_! I barely got to eat any! I left the room to talk to Jaune and then came back and all of _you_ looked guilty and full of chocolatey goodness!”

“What does ‘full of chocolatey goodness’ look like? I don’t think that’s a real thing. You probably ate all of them yourself and blacked out from the sugar. You’ve done it before.”

“Only once! Only _once_!”

“Hey, Weiss?” Blake asks softly. “You alright?”

The siblings immediately fall silent, recognizing something in her tone, and exchange a quick glance that has them both scooting a little closer, compacting the group.

“Hmm?” Weiss looks up, blinks, then shakes her head. “Oh, I’m… fine.”

“It doesn’t really sound you are,” Ruby murmurs gently.

Weiss looks down again, the frown returning. “I just — I didn’t realize how bad it was here. I spent most of my time on the Estate after Beacon fell, and I was… distracted. I didn’t notice how awful it’d gotten.”

Ruby shifts, not quite reaching out to take Weiss’s hand, but brushing against it with her own. “We all had a lot going on then. It’s not your fault for not noticing.”

“Maybe not _then_ ,” Weiss allows. “But I should have known better before. It wasn’t this bad when I was younger. At least, I don’t think it was. But I _knew_ things were happening that weren’t right and I… never said anything. I — I know we can’t blame my father for everything that’s going on now. But he’s had a hand in _so much_ of this. And I’m…”

She falls silent and Ruby does take her hand then (so very carefully).

“This isn’t on you, Weiss,” Yang says, firm and sure. “You were just a _kid_ then. And besides. You said you were going to take back the Schnee name. And _we’re_ going to help you.”

Ruby nods. “I know it seems bad now. And kind of impossible. But we’re in a place to start doing some good. Even if it’s only the four of us and even if it’s only a little, we’re going to do _something_. So that’s a start, right?”

“Sometimes that’s all you need,” Blake adds. (She thinks of breaking points and trains and running away and running back and where she is now.) “A place to start. Even if it doesn’t feel like enough, it’s still something.”

“Right.” As though absorbing all their words at once, Weiss stops suddenly, heedless of the (thankfully light) foot traffic around them. “I… want to do something. Now.”

Blake exchanges a quick look with Yang, but Weiss is already moving again by the time they turn their gaze back to her. Yang shrugs and follows, but not before tangling their fingers together, a (new) habit that ends up being as practical as it is pleasant; Weiss moves quickly and without pause, down side-streets and through the occasional crowd. She seems to have a precise location in mind, but it’s still a surprise when she once again stops, hands on her hips, looking into the windows of the storefront that she’s planted herself in front of.

“Oh.” Ruby pauses, taking it in. Her eyes widen. “ _Oh_!”

Yang’s lips smile is crooked, perhaps a bit confused, as she glances up at the sign and then inside. “Oh-kay. A haircut. I guess that’s… therapeutic? I wouldn’t really know.”

“Yang’s first barber was also her first victim,” Ruby chirps. “She set the store on fire.”

“Only a little! And that was different. _Obviously_ I support Weiss in this… rebellion? Are we going with rebellion?”

“I think we’re kind of past rebellion,” Blake muses, and is pleased to catch a smile flit across Weiss’s face. “This is…”

“A start,” Weiss finishes, then steps inside the salon.

 

—

 

They all follow, of course.

The first obstacle is convincing the stylist that yes, Weiss _really does_ want to remove nearly two decades of hair growth in one fell swoop.

The second one is right after, once the woman offers to let one of ‘Ms. Schnee’s friends’ cut off the ponytail, which, of course, they all want to do.

“I’m her _partner_! I should obviously be the one to do it!”

“Sure. And hyperactivity and scissors go _really_ well together, too, don’t you think?”

Weiss sighs, eyes rolling skyward. “It doesn’t matter who does it! There is absolutely no skill involved. Just get on with it.”

“Hey, Weiss,” Yang says. “Remember when we were first setting up the dorm and Ruby cut the curtains in half? And no one could figure out what she’d even been trying to do in the first place?”

Yang tilts her head to look down at Weiss, grin growing as the silence persists.

“Ruby’s out,” Weiss finally declares.  

“Aw.”

“Guess it’s down to you and me, Belladonna,” Yang purrs, strutting closer, sway of her hips exaggerated (but not unwelcome).

“Oh my god,” Weiss groans. “None of you belong in public. Please stop.”

Ignoring the interruption, Yang continues, “How are we gonna decide this? Arm wrestling? That’s my vote. Staring contest? Full-on duel?” She turns to the (bewildered) hairdresser. “Don’t worry, we’d go outside for that last one.”

Blake closes the distance between them, placing a hand just above Yang’s hip, fingertips barely brushing along the small patch of skin _still_ present, even with her new winter coat on. Yang’s attention immediately snaps back towards her, and Blake already knows that she’s won.

“Or,” she murmurs, lifting her chin and looking Yang directly in the eyes. “You could just let me do it.”

“Oh,” Yang breathes, a faint flush on her cheeks. “Yeah, okay.”

Blake steps back, corner of her mouth curled, and accepts the scissors without another word.

“I guess there _is_ an upside to you two being unbearable,” Weiss drawls. “Now there’s a way to get Yang to shut up.”

“Hey!”

Ruby giggles and knocks her fist into Yang’s shoulder. “That was _weird_.”

“ _You’re_ weird!”

Smirk shifting into a smile, Blake places her free hand on Weiss’s shoulder, catching her gaze in the large mirror in front of them. “Ready?”

After a half a second pause, Weiss nods, firm and sure.

Blake makes the cut.

 

—

 

(Weiss gets it cut shorter than any of them are expecting; clipped all the way around the sides with blunt, asymmetrical bangs cutting across the right side of her face.

Ruby stares at her opened-mouthed, Yang’s grin is wide, and Blake aches, chest full of pride, as she smiles.

“Well?” Weiss prompts, hands clasped in front of her.

“Weiss,” Yang begins slowly. “You look like a _badass_.”

“So _cool_ ,” Ruby agrees, her pitch increasing as she draws out the word.

“You look…” It takes a moment until Blake’s able to find the word, but when she does, her smile grows. “Lighter.”

Weiss unclasps her hands and lifts one to scratch at the back of her scalp, lips pressed together to keep from appearing _too_ pleased.

“Well. It _was_ a lot of hair.”)

 

—

 

Slipping into _more_ with Yang is easy.

So easy that it takes Blake by surprise from time to time.

Her hand finds Yang’s (or her forearm or shoulder or back) without conscious thought, Yang wraps a strand of black hair around her finger as she talks, their legs knock together whenever they sit, fingers graze against skin to capture each other’s attention. It’s so _natural_ , and Blake only realizes how far she’s slid into it whenever she looks back.

There’s one exception to the rule, of course, (because there’s always an exception) and it’s this: Blake’s never been as aware as _anything_ as Yang’s body pressing up against hers when they settle in for the night.

The mattresses haven’t moved since their first day in the apartment, not really, but there’s a clear distinction now: ‘ _Blake and Yang’s’_ mattress and ‘Weiss and Ruby’s’. The gap between them isn’t especially large, but the grouping of blankets, pillows, and personal effects has become fairly telling, the longer they stay.

Really, their positioning hasn’t much shifted either. Yang sleeps on her back and Blake on her side, and it’s _easy_ to curl into her, to pillow her head on Yang’s chest and feel the warmth of a hand at her back, seeping through her shirt. They talk softly, with each other and Ruby and Weiss, and Yang’s breath flits across the top of her head, strands shifting whenever she lets out a puff of laughter.

But. They’re still sleeping in borrowed, too-large t-shirts, which means Yang’s legs are bare and get tangled in hers, and when Yang shifts in her sleep the neck of the shirt gets caught and shifts and reveals shoulder or collarbone, and sometimes Blake’s leg slips up onto Yang’s hip and the hem of her shirt lifts and and _and_.

It’s not as easy.

It’s not easy at _all_ , especially when Blake jolts awake in the middle of the night, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, tension coiled low in her stomach, and too much skin and warmth everywhere else. The sensations are enough to keep her frozen in place, ears twitching at the sound of Ruby’s light snores drifting throughout the room, and it takes her a moment to realize what, precisely, woke her. Once she does, it’s all there is; her shirt has bunched up enough that Yang’s left hand, normally atop it, has slipped underneath, fingers curling around Blake’s hip, burning directly against her skin.

This would, perhaps, be a simpler thing if Blake were wearing pants.

“Blake?”

Yang’s voice is low and raspy with sleep and _that_ , combined with the slight shift of her hips as she stirs, is enough to make Blake shiver. Noticeably.

“You okay? You cold?”

 _Cold_ is pretty much exactly the opposite of what she is, right then.

“I — I’m fine. You should — ah — go back to sleep.”  

For a moment, she thinks Yang _has_ fallen back asleep, but then her fingers twitch and the sound of her breathing halts, and it’s clear she’s merely come to the same realizations that Blake had, not ten minutes earlier.

“Why?” she breathes.

“Because… rest?”

It’s pretty weak, but right now, so is Blake; she feels like there’s a limit on the amount of logic or reasoning she has access to at the moment, and she’ll count anything even _remotely_ coherent as a win. Especially when she looks up and finds Yang’s eyes, dark except for the smallest ring of color, focused on her. The light in the room is dim, filtering through the curtains of the small window by the door, but Blake’s fairly certain it’s not the only source of Yang’s blown pupils. Not when she can hear the stuttering skip of her breath as she finally releases it (feel the tension in the muscles that keep her body still).

“Blake,” Yang whispers (or maybe she says _please_ ).

Blake kisses her.

It’s nothing like the ones they’ve had before; it’s not careful or gentle or even particularly soft. Yang surges up and her grip on Blake tightens and shifts, right hand coming up to clutch at Blake’s jaw. (The cool metal is the only part of this that isn’t full of heat, but the contrast sends a bolt of awareness through Blake, so maybe that’s not entirely true either.)

And suddenly, it’s easy again — actions automatic — every movement she makes is the _only_ possible one: hand tugging down on the collar of Yang’s shirt, teeth drawing in Yang’s lower lip and biting down, leg sliding across Yang’s lap so that — _god_ — she’s straddling her and her hips are pressing down _just_ right. Yang makes a noise that Blake’s _never_ heard before — never anything like it — and she has to pull back (a little, only a _little_ — Yang’s hand keeps her in place) and suck in a gulp of air because somehow she’s on the brink of forgetting how to breathe.

She’s so lost in it that the sensation of something soft colliding with her side barely registers, but eventually something else breaks through.

“ — Kidding me? We’re _right_ here, you idiots!”

Weiss throws another pillow. It connects with Yang’s arm and the side of Blake’s head, and this one has the intended effect; Yang releases her and slides back, nearly off the mattress and Blake _springs_ backwards, landing on her feet, but only just.

“It is the _middle_ of the night,” Weiss continues, voice shrill. “So I will wait until _tomorrow_ to hear your _apology_ for this _severe_ breach of roommate etiquette.

Blake blinks rapidly at the both of them, trying to understand the chain of events that’s led them _here_ , with Weiss already in the process of gathering up her things. She shoves a large bundle of blankets at Ruby, who, because she’s using both her hands to cover her eyes, fails to take them.

“Ugh, Ruby!”

Ruby slowly drops her hands and grabs the blankets, though she keeps her gaze trained on the ceiling, muttering one word repeatedly under her breath. “ _Gross gross gross gross gross_.”

“We are going into _that_ bedroom and the two of you are going into the _other_ bedroom.” Weiss lifts the mattress onto its side with a huff and begins dragging it toward the indicated room. “And if I hear _any_ sounds from either of you for the rest of the night, I will come in there and _murder you_ myself, you — you _horny simpletons_!”

She slams the door behind her; Blake sees it coming, but still jumps. Every part of her feels wired, like she’s just been plunged into a bath of ice water immediately after running across a batch of coals. She stares at the closed door for a while, turning to Yang only when she hears the other woman let out a noise that isn’t quite a laugh (but feels close enough).

“Uh. Is it bad that I’m _really_ not sorry?”

The light is still dim, but Blake’s eyes have adjusted enough to take in every facet of the wide smile that’s stretching across Yang’s face (of the _look_ in her eyes as she stares up at her).

“Blake, that was — holy _shit_ that was hot.” She blinks. “Not the — not the last part with Weiss being _super_ mad, obviously, but, um. Worth it.”

She shouldn’t grin back — she really shouldn’t — but she does, and even starts to laugh, though she muffles it quickly. Yang _doesn’t_ bother hiding her own laughter this time, not even a little, and Blake drops back down onto the mattress and does it for her. With her mouth.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” Yang murmurs against her lips, voice nearly singsong.

“Mmm, well. Like you said. Worth it.”

 

—

 

Their feelings on the matter are put to the test the next morning, when Weiss greets them with a glare that _implies_ she may not be _quite_ ready to forgive them for their various midnight misdeeds. She also tells them.

“I have _not_ forgiven you for last night and there _will_ be consequences.”

“Can we _please_ not talk about it?” Ruby pleads, still looking anywhere but at Yang or Blake. “I’m still recovering.”

“You guys,” Yang begins with a sigh. “It wasn’t that bad. It’s not like we were — ”

Blake cuts in quickly. “We got you coffee! And hot chocolate.”

“Ooh.” Ruby snags hers, clearly placated.

“That’s… _something_ ,” Weiss admits, taking the coffee with a little sniff. “But don’t think I won’t be compiling a list of apartment rules in the _very_ near future. This was a _violation_ of the unspoken contract that exists in every team that has a pairing occur within it.”

Yang nods, the appearance of earnestness, and offers a lopsided smile. “Of _course_. But, um, quick sidenote? Your hair looks awesome, Weiss! Even right out of bed. You are _killing_ it, day two!”

“That’s… nice of you to say.” Weiss preens, while clearly trying very hard not to appear to do so. “But this contract is _still_ happening.”

“It was a totally unrelated observation!”

No one is particularly convinced, but the compliment is sincere enough, even with the barely veiled ulterior motive, and Yang gets away with it (as usual).

“We _are_ sorry about last night,” Blake murmurs, fighting a blush. “We just got a little… carried away. It won’t happen again.”

Yang bites her lip, which doesn’t really hide her grin; Blake elbows her in the stomach, but that doesn’t much hide it either.

The thing that _does_ finally manage it is a knock at the front door. After that, the smile slips from Yang’s face pretty much immediately, tension straightening her spine. A quick glance around the room reveals the rest reacting in a similar way.

“We weren’t expecting anyone, were we?” Ruby asks, though they all know they weren’t.

“No.” Yang’s gauntlet extends. “I’ll get it.”

Ruby nods, pulls out Crescent Rose, and follows closely. Beside her, Blake brushes her fingers along Gambol Shroud, newly repaired (and improved) and returned to her back, and feels a small surge of comfort. Yang glances back once throwing the door open, only to sigh and drop her guard immediately.

“Good instincts,” Qrow grunts, knocking Yang on the shoulder as he moves past her, into the apartment. “Better one would be to leave _those_ two outside in the cold, but you’re gonna have to ignore it.”

This doesn’t seems to sit well with at least one of their guests, but Winter manages to hold her tongue, mainly because she catches sight of Weiss soon after. (Blake can’t say for sure, but she thinks Winter might hide a hint of a smile when she takes in her sister’s new look.)  

“May we come in, Miss Xiao Long?”

Yang steps aside and gestures towards the living room. With the mattresses cleared, it looks empty, only a broken couch and small table to fill the space.

“Can we offer you a beverage, General? Winter?” Weiss asks.

Ignoring the state of it, Qrow perches himself on one end of the couch, stretching his legs out. “What nothing for me?”

“It’s been my experience that you typically bring your own.”

(Winter’s not-quite-smile returns.)

“No thank you, Miss Schnee. We won’t be long.” Ironwood clears his throat. “I was merely coming by to offer… information. And to ask for your assistance.”

Ruby’s eyes dart over towards Weiss, and the two exchange a glance. “What can we do for you, General?”

Ironwood clears his throat, his expression tight. “There is precious little trust in this world, Miss Rose. Even the Atlesian Council often gives me reason to wonder if their motives are as pure as I would wish.” He frowns, slipping a hand into his pocket. “I have grown used to caution. I feel this is understandable for a man in my position, but… as you pointed out to me not long ago, there is a time when trust is instrumental to the success of any mission.

“I know we may not, perhaps, see eye to eye. But I admire the work your team has done.” He looks to Yang (and Blake fights the impulse to reach out to take her hand). “And the sacrifices they have made. If it is truly your wish to involve yourselves in this fight against Salem, then it seems wise to trust you with the information I possess, as both Qrow and — to some extent — Ozpin have done. I would like to work _with_ you and your team, Miss Rose, if you are amenable.”

Ruby doesn’t need to look at her teammates to know their answer. “We are.”

“I’m glad.” Ironwood places his hands behind his back. “The Winter Maiden is not here in Atlas. I relocated her when certain members of the Council were behaving in ways I could not fully understand. If you wish to meet her to determine if you can entrust your Relic to her, then Winter will take you there. Tomorrow, preferably. Though I must warn you, it will not be a simple journey; she is located far north, beyond the boundaries of any city. I know this is… not quite what you had in mind. Qrow tells me you believe there is much work to be done within Atlas, and I cannot disagree. But perhaps once the Relic of Knowledge is in a more secure location, we can speak on your other concerns.”

“While we’re gone, you should talk to Jaune, Nora, Ren, and Oscar,” Ruby suggests. “So we don’t lose any time.”

Ironwood pauses, then nods. “I will meet with them.”  

“Good. Then we’ll go with Winter. Tomorrow.” She glances around. “Right?”

Three nods meet her in response.

“I’ll prepare transport and supplies,” Winter says. “You’ll meet me at the main compound tomorrow morning at 6:00. Do not be tardy.”

“Team RWBY excels at timeliness,” Weiss declares, and Blake drops her gaze to the floor (if she looks at Yang then, she _knows_ she’ll laugh).

“Wonderful.” Ironwood nods to himself, unclasping his hands. “Winter will be able to answer any questions you may have tomorrow, on the airship. But if there is nothing else for now, we both have much to do.”

“We do too.” Ruby smiles, then sticks out her hand. Ironwood takes it and returns the smile; it changes his face, infuses it with something that has a ring of hope to it. “Thank you, General.”

“Of course.”

 

—

 

(“So. A lot to process,” Yang comments casually.

Weiss looks up, crosses her arms. “Don’t you dare.”

“No, no. I’m just saying… _someone_ called this weeks ago. Something about a tundra?”

“Babe,” Blake groans. “Please.”

“And sleds and spears?”

“I’m throwing you off the airship tomorrow,” Weiss promises.)

 

—

 

“So. Guess we’re back on the job, huh?”

The viewing platform isn’t particularly crowded at this time of day, so Yang doesn’t receive any dirty looks when she stretches her arms out over the railing, watching Blake rather than the view of Mantle below. Blake can hardly blame her for not taking full advantage of the sight; it’s more upsetting than majestic, a reminder of the disparities between the two cities, as close as they are geographically. Visiting had been something of a whim, a sightseeing activity for the eight of them to do together before the teams were separated once again, but, glancing around now, it doesn’t seem like any of them are utilizing the platform in the way intended. (Nora, in a particularly flagrant disregard the many ‘no climbing’ signs, is cartwheeling around the railings.)

“You don’t sound as excited as I thought you’d be.”

Yang shrugs a shoulder and sprawls out even further, stretching out her legs until only the heels of her boots make contact with the ground. “Atlas sucks, but the downtime hasn’t been as bad as I expected.”   

“Oh, not _as bad_ as expected?” Blake takes two steps, until she’s standing between Yang’s legs, managing to fight off a blush at the phrasing of the thought. “Something about that assessment bothers me, but I can’t figure out _what_.”

It’s hard to play favorites when it comes to Yang’s smiles, but the one that spreads across her face now, slow and lazy and a little lopsided, definitely has a spot near the top of Blake’s list.

“Maybe I’ve forgotten a few things. Wanna help me out?”

Blake braces a hand against Yang’s hip and finds her mouth, lips brushing together once, then twice (and _oh_ , there’s another one of Blake’s favorites: the soft curl of Yang’s smile that she can _feel_ ).

“Oh, yeah,” Yang breathes. “That.”

“Ready to re-evaluate?”

“Maybe. How long are you going to let me drag this out?”

She kicks the inside of Yang’s boot with the outside of her own, and Yang slips a bit further down, has to lift her chin to maintain eye contact. (Blake doesn’t mind this _at all_ , which is probably something to explore later.)

“Try again.”

“It’s been really great,” Yang says, expression shifting into something soft and earnest, if only briefly. “Everything with you is… perfect. Which is why for like, the first time ever, I wouldn’t mind a little more downtime. Plus this whole Winter thing?” Her eyebrows raise in exaggerated alarm, voice dropping to a stage whisper. “She’s Weiss dialed to a _twenty-seven._ She’s Weiss if Weiss never made any friends and grew up in the _military_. We’re going to be marching through a blizzard in single file like little Atlesian soldiers, and Winter is going to make us do call-back chants, or something.”

“Oh, stop.” Blake rolls her eyes, but can’t stop her smile. “It’s not going to be that bad.”   

“I dunno, babe. I can picture it _perfectly_.”

“It’s not going to be that bad,” Blake says again, voice softer this time, a hint of pink finally making its way to her face. “Because we’re going to be together. All of us, I mean, but also… _us_.”

Yang shifts onto her elbows, then pushes off the railing entirely, planting her feet properly on the ground. Blake’s hand slips away in the process, but Yang finds it again, fingers wrapping around Blake’s as she tugs her closer.

“Stronger than ever,” Yang murmurs, none of the expected teasing in her tone.

“We’ve faced the worst things I could have imagined.” Blake’s face pinches in discomfort, but she doesn’t look away. “But you and me? We’ve made it through every time. Even if… sometimes it took a little while.”

Yang smiles; it’s soft enough to make Blake’s heart ache. “Funny, I was just about to give you the same speech.”

“I guess it’s finally starting to sink in: everything we’ve done. How far we’ve come.”

“All those pep talks are finally starting to pay off, huh?”

“You three are very encouraging.” Blake laughs, only slightly self-conscious. “Picking you as my partner, joining Team RWBY. It’s been good for me. In so many ways.”

“And?” Yang prompts, tugging on her hand twice.

“And…” She sighs, feeling a little more bashful now, but presses past it. “And I’ve been good for all of you too.”

“Really?” Yang’s nose scrunches. “You sure?”

“Yang!”

Blake shoves her. Hard. Yang stumbles back a little, but closes the distance between them, surging back forward, before more than a few seconds have passed, laughing as she wraps Blake in a tight hug. It’s infectious, the joy of it, and she finds herself giggling into Yang’s shoulder, hands sliding up her back.

“This feels like a _group hug situation!_ ”

A small weight slams into her back, arms wrapping tightly around her neck from behind; she can barely turn her head to look, but it’s obviously Ruby: a flush of red, excitement, and boundless affection.

“Weiss!” Ruby yells ( _right_ into one of the ears atop Blake’s head). “We’re _group hugging._ ”

There’s a pause, but not one long enough to indicate that Ruby’s volume had been strictly necessary.

“Do _they_ know that?”

Yang scoffs. “Get in here, loser.”

Sliding an arm out from between Ruby and Blake, she pulls Weiss in; Blake helps, untangling a hand to tug the woman into her side.

“You guys are _so_ embarrassing.”

“You love it,” Yang and Ruby both say, pitch and intonation wildly varying, but somehow meaning the same thing.

Blake closes her eyes, to better take it all in, and thinks of everything that she loves, of the people that care for her. Of her parents’ forgiveness and Sun’s easy acceptance. Of Ruby’s confident affection and Weiss’s quiet assurance. And of Yang, whose smile presses into her temple and slides in deep, filling Blake with a calm certainty like she’s never managed to feel before.

She looks back, stares into a past she’s always found so much regret in, and for the first time, it’s easy to pull out the things she’s done right.

They’re the ones that brought her here.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that the phrase 'horny simpletons' comes from the incomparable Harry Potter fanfiction 'My Immortal'. It's always been a dream of mine to quote such a masterpiece in my own work, especially a line Professor McGoogle. Thank you, Tara Gilesbie. You were ahead of your time.
> 
> Now that this is all wrapped up, and I have a slightly better grasp on writing these folks, I do plan on writing more RWBY in the future, namely a Ski AU that I've written a bit for already. I appreciate you all sticking with me for this one and for the really lovely comments you took the time to leave. You guys really made my day, on more than one occasion.


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